Beauty Within
by StSE
Summary: G1: Torture/Romance. After being captured and left for dead; Bumblebee falls in love with the most grotesque of mechs. The OC is not an OC in the end! Rewrite with more angst and depth - and the coinciding story line of those left behind.
1. Blind silence

_**Note: **__A little rewriting bug got a hold of me. So to see if I could do it – I did it. _

_This is 'version 3' – more detail, more angst… And now I tell the story of the despair and healing of those left behind.. Those that feel responsible for all the pain that the young mechs shall go through.._

_I am archiving 'version 2' of Beauty Within on AFF. It's now even more gruesome in detail. A pure 'MA' version.. (anime.?no600045474 )… So if you just love the more explicit version, go on over and read it there.._

_No, the BB plot didn't change, neither did the chapters. Just the perspective that the story teller narrates from is different. It's been a fun and challenging thing to write! _

**Beauty Within**

Preface: G1. Bumblebee has been captured by the Decepticons and is now trapped on their ship as they patrol the Galaxy.

**Terror**

"He, he.. It's our turn for a little fun - wouldn't ya say Frenzy?" Bumblebee heard Rumble snicker as the Decepticons came waltzing into his cell.

His brother nodded in agreement, grinning sadistically as his optics roved over the half-naked Autobot.

Bumblebee huddled against the wall in terror. Much of his sensitive circuits were bare, exposed for all to see – as Con after Con had ripped portions of his armor off as they had enjoyed their turns torturing him. He winced as the torn circuits on his aft, scraped the bulkhead. How much more he could stand, he didn't know… He just wanted to be off-lined.. Now.. Please.. Before any more.. Looking up at the two cons approaching him, he shrank against the wall.. His optics pleading with them for mercy..

Frenzy strode up to him, kicking him hard in his crotch. Both small Cons shrieking in laughter as the Autobot moaned in agony and curled up in a ball. Grabbing the small yellow mech's shoulders, Rumble threw him face first on the ground. Then he smashed him down, sitting on his shoulders to keep him from moving.

"My turn first this time," Frenzy's voice snickered. A flame of searing agony shot through Bumblebee as the mech grabbed some of his exposed circuits and brutally twisted them. Screaming, the helpless mech struggled weakly, trying to get away.

Rumble sat down harder on him. His weight against his naked circuits, keeping him helplessly pinned. "Looks like Bumblebee doesn't like you," Bee heard him snicker. Raising his first, he slammed down on the naked circuits between his shoulders, intensifying his torment.

Frenzy moved his hand down, plunging his hand inside Bee's chassis. The helpless Autobot's optics widened in fear as he felt the mech's hand dive deep into his wiring; twisting and jerking sensitive internal circuits – causing his screams to escalate in volume. But this only made the con more eager to find other circuits to twist, to rip.. Tears flowed freely down Bumblebee's faceplate as his systems heated up in response to the pain… The agony…

He fell deep into the dark recesses of his meta as the torture continued.. His circuits becoming so overworked with the pain sensations that they began to shut down one-by-one.. Soon, he was totally helpless as his motor control nets went offline. But his meta.. His meta wouldn't shut down. Forcing him to endure the incoming data load.. To know what they were doing to him.. To record every horrifying action and deed in the minutest detail…

As his physical struggle ended, his internal struggle had merely begun.. Flinging up his firewalls, he strove desperately to keep them out of his primary networks. To keep his very spark safe from their touch. Again and again, they strove to break through his firewalls. To torture him from within.. To destroy his soft blue spark.. He was weakening. His will to continue his resistance fading.. And with an agonized cry, his firewalls exploded into nothingness. His fragile spark now exposed to their invasion.

Shards of piercing lances of crimson energy coursed straight through his spark. Penetrating deeply into his very meta. Imprinting their victory upon his very soul… The soft blueness of his own life force faltered before them. Trying to run.. To hide.. In the furthest reaches of his eternal prison.. The chassis that he'd been thrust into at animation, to give it the breath of life, had now become a hell that he couldn't escape. The demon sparks of the cons having free rein within him, as they found his whimpering spark and surrounded it with the fire of agony. Then the blessed cold blackness fell upon them as they left.

Faintly, he felt them shift his chassis, position him for another round of agony. He had no will to struggle now.. Could not even muster even the weakest of firewalls.. Again, his chassis became a prison of the living hell his spark was forced to endure.. He cried out in agony as every system seemed to be on fire.. His very self melting.. His vocal processors overheated.. Shutting down to protect the unit from further damage, even as his other systems felt like they were being ripped to shreds by the hot embers of the con sparks flooding through them. Then the black emptiness of the emotional abyss settled over him as the sparks once again retreated from his chassis.

In a surreal reality now, he felt his mouth forced open.. But he was now beyond caring about the humiliation they were now forcing upon him.. It didn't matter anymore.. He didn't matter anymore.. He was just a torn and damaged chassis there for the cons to vent all their pent up anger and energy upon.. The physical pain was not as bad as the internal pain.. His spark began to realign itself within him as it recovered from the battle with the hostile sparks. Even as he felt the physical pain of what they were now doing to him, he somehow felt himself relax. For his spark could at least rest briefly as his chassis now took the punishment.

As if he was listening in on another conversation he heard Frenzy say something about a two-on-one. His chassis somehow felt like someone else's as the cons shifted him into a new position. His spark seemed to leave the prison of his yellow frame then, and he watched what was happening to him as if he was an outsider standing off to the side. But then the firestorm of the hostile sparks swarmed over him, beating him down.. Destroying.. Burning him in an inferno that seemed hotter than the very star Cybertron orbited.

With a final scream of total agony, Bumblebee shut down..

--

He reactivated later; the blessed peace of silence met his audios. The cold metal floor upon which he lay in a heap of tortured metal and wiring, seemed to mock his pain.

His blue optics brightened as his motor systems came fully on line again. But then he tensed, his hydraulic pressure skyrocketing as the agony of a thousand torn circuits bombarded his meta in a cascading wave of nauseating pain.

Groaning, he scratched the floor with his shredding fingertips. The sickening shrill squeal of metal sliding against metal reverberated from the bulkheads as he clawed the floor in his agony. Willing himself to move, he slowly flipped over as best he could. The awkwardness of his actions showed the clear evidence to his heavily damaged linkages.

Now laying on his abdominal armor, Bumblebee crawled his way towards the wall like some cyberslug trying to find moisture. As he got there, he curled himself into a fetal-like position and began to weakly sob.. Knowing full well that he was merely waiting for the next coming assault…

--

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	2. A World of Silence

Silence

**Silence**

Waves of agony washed over him as he scanned the emptiness of his cell. The very walls seemed to mock him for his weakness. His show of emotion with his tears… His lip trembled as he fought back another round of self-pity. Sighing in resignation, Bumblebee curled himself into a tighter ball on the cold bare floor. For now, he was alone; but he knew it wouldn't be long before another Con ended his shift. And Megatron had told all of them that they could enjoy their new 'playtoy'. He had been told as such by several of the cons who'd 'played' with him over the last few cycles.

_He was nothing more than a Con playtoy now._ He thought to himself with a shudder of repulsion as his meta brought back the crawling sensations of Decepticreep fingers sliding under his armor. Nausea filled his almost empty core, radiating outward until his entire chassis felt like it was malfunctioning. Balling his hands together in tight little fists, the small mech berated himself for being so weak. He was so completely defenseless against the strong Decepticons whom came to use him. He shuddered in sobs, putting his hands over his optics as he wished they'd just off-line him – put him out of his misery. But he knew they wouldn't, they enjoyed torturing and using him too much.

Hearing the ominous clang of metal-on-metal as a mech came down the corridor towards his cell door, he cringed and crawled to the corner. He chewed on his lip in fear as his audios picked up the sound of the mech stopping, turning, and punching in codes on a keypad lock. He slid his feet up tighter to his naked chest region, locking his legs tightly together. Instinctively he tried to protect his bonding networks, even though he knew it was all in vain.

As he listened to the electronic lock release, he prayed desperately that it wasn't one of the Seekers this time; they were the most sadistic of the Decepticons. Wanting to see just how long they could make him scream in agony, before they even bothered force bonding with him. That was IF they even did bother to force bond with him. Sometimes they just wanted to vent their anger over something that had happened to them while on shift; some kind of perceived insult to their ego. No, Bumblebee didn't have anything to do with it, but he was the one that always felt the punishment for it.

Thundercracker had been the last one, and he had tortured Bee for two astrohours before he'd actually raped him. The blue Seeker had purchased a new 'toy' at the last port, and had decided to test it out on him. The toy was actually a roboprode, which was designed to give the victim a shock of electricity wherever the handler wanted it. Bumblebee had writhed and pleaded for him to stop for what seemed like an eternity before Thundercracker was finally done. And then the Seeker had been so 'turned on' by his screams he had used him. But actually the use hadn't been the worst of it; it had been the blessed end to it. Since Bumblebee had learned harshly over his captivity that at least when they finally did the force bonding, it'd only be a little while longer before they were satisfied and left.

"Well, well.. Bumblebee, you look good naked;"Starscream snickered as he entered. His crimson optics roved over the trembling mech's half-naked chassis, his smirk widening as he saw the terror bright in those blue optics. One day… One day.. He'd see the same look in Megatron's optics, but for now he'd have to be satisfied with dominating captives.

Whimpering in sheer terror, Bumblebee cowered. Starscream was truly the worst of the Seekers. He seemed to have a true fascination in seeing just how much pain a mech's networks could send to the mech's meta processor at the same time. And he was highly creative in his methods of producing those pain stimuli. Last time Bee had actually blacked out before he'd actually used him – because of the sadistic torture that Starscream had done to the small mech first. Heck, Bee didn't even know if the red Seeker had even bothered to force bond with him while he was out cold. But did it really even matter?

Striding up to the frightened Autobot, the tall Seeker picked him up and threw him onto the hard berth. Gasping as his raw circuits scraped across the cold steel, Bee looked pleadingly up at the Seeker. "Please don't," he whimpered, tears already streaming down his face as he envisioned what the Seeker was going to do next.

Glaring at him Starscream slapped him across the room. "You speak when I give you permission to speak – you pathetic Autobot!" he shrieked. Striding over to the yellow mech crumpled on the floor, he kicked him several times. Bumblebee tried to crawl away from him, his whimpers filling the room. This enraged the Seeker even more, turning slightly; he kicked the mech hard on his aft. His thruster sunk deep into Bee's naked circuitry. The small mech curled up in a ball with an energon-curdling scream of total agony.

With a disgusted snort, Starscream grabbed him and threw him up on the berth. Glowering at him, he pinned him down with one hand. His crimson optics boring into those frightened blue orbs. "I'm getting tired of your pathetic screams Autobot," he growled. Leaning forward, he dove his hand into the exposed circuits in Bee's upper chest. Ripping out some wires, he effectively muted the Autobot by permanently damaging his voice processor.

Now, unable to even scream – the helpless Autobot suffered under the Seeker's hands for the next few astrohours.

**Blinded**

"Well, this freagin' sucks – you worthless Autobot. Can't even scream;" Thrust complained. Slapping Bumblebee across the room, he cussed Starscream under his breath. Damn slogger was always ruining the fun of others! What fun was it, when your victim couldn't shriek those beautiful screams? His vocal levels would tell you just how well you were doing with the torture.

Stalking towards the trembling Autobot, the coneheaded Seeker snickered as those big blue optics looked up at him in fear. The mech shrank back against the wall, trying to get away, for he couldn't even beg for mercy now. Kicking the yellow mech, he enjoyed the sound of circuits crunching under his thruster. Cocking his head, he smirked as a thought crossed his meta, he'd always wanted to try something particular on an Autobot – why not do it now?

Stepping down on one of the few areas that Bumblebee still had his protective armor on, Thrust pinned one of his lower arms under his thruster. The Autobot's blue optics widened in fear; his whole chassis trembled in expectation of more pain. Thrust cackled, as he activated his thruster. He watched in amusement as the Autobot's entire chassis jerked in agony as the searing heat melted right through his armor. "It'd be more fun if you could scream, you pathetic Autobot," he taunted as he flamed his engine a little hotter. The Autobot's tears streaked his face as he writhed underneath his thruster. Yes, it felt very good to do this to a mech, Thrust decided. Next time he noticed a damaged Autobot on the battlefield, he'd make sure to give him a little going away present.

Tiring of the game, Thrust deactivated his thruster and grabbed the Autobot. Bumblebee's energon dripped on the floor from his newly damaged arm. Leaving a trail as Thrust dragged him towards the berth. Throwing him on top of the hard berth, he pinned him down with an arm. Weakly, Bumblebee stared at him with his wild blue optics, the pain in his arm coursing through every network in his chassis.. The Autobot prayed that the Seeker would just hurry up and use him, get it over with.

Punching him, Thrust glared at those blue optics. He was tired of them boring into him. As if the Autobot was silently accusing him of being weak. Then an idea coursed through his mind; if Starscream took his voice – Thrust would take his sight. Snickering sadistically, Thrust balled up a fist and smashed those brilliant blue optics, again and again – until they finally shattered.

Screaming inside, Bumblebee felt the Seeker use him. The fiery spark of the Decepticon overwhelming his shattered blue spark… Tearing apart what little remained of him from within.

--

Agony met his every network as he rebooted. Or did he reboot? Bumblebee couldn't tell the difference anymore. Whether he was unconscious or conscious, life was a living hell. Only the fact that he was feeling the pain now, let him know with absolute certainty that he was awake.. He just wanted to off-line.. To end it now.. But there was no end to his misery.. No end to his pain.

No light or images met his meta as he fully rebooted. The shards of his shattered blue optics tore into his electronic photo receptor grid, which caused yet more agony to shoot like fire through his central sensory networks. Clasping his hands over his face, he weakly shuddered, trying desperately to block out the pain. His meta dove into his deepest memories as it sought to escape the pain.

"_Ah Bumblebee, you'll do fine. Just believe in yourself," Ironhide grinned as he smacked him on his shoulder armor. "Just remember to keep your optics peeled and you'll hit ever target," he advised as he led him towards the small arms trials. _

_Bumblebee looked up at his friend, his mentor, his teacher. His optics full of hope that he could pass the trials and become an Autobot.._

Shaking himself back to reality, Bumblebee shook with silent sobs. He'd become an Autobot only to be captured a few orbit cycles later. Now he was nothing… Nothing but a sensory net of pain…

**Dumped**

"Those freagin' Seekers!" Wildrider griped as he nudged the naked mech with his foot. The damned Seekers had both blinded and muted the Autobot, so now there was no fun in torturing him anymore. You couldn't see the fear in his optics, and you couldn't hear the screams of pain. Snorting in derision, he kicked the mech hard. Wanting to hear some kind of reaction from the captive.. But nothing but the sound of crunching circuits filled his audio receptors.

Dragstrip kicked the naked Autobot across the room. Bee didn't move, didn't even tremble anymore. "Yep, those bastards ruin all the fun," he observed. The mech might as well be off-lined, there'd be about the same amount of fun to be had with a corpse.

"Guess we'll just have to throw him out and get a new one," Wildrider grumbled in disgust. It was such a pain capturing new ones. Generally, if you managed TO capture them – they were already so damaged that they off-lined before making it to the ship.

Dragstrip went over to the still form on the floor, picked him up and then dropped him. Absolutely no reaction came from Bumblebee as he slammed against the floor. "Yep, he's so damaged, he'll be off-lined soon anyways," he stated as a matter of fact.

The two Stunticons dragged the worthless shell of the Autobot out of his cell. Since the ship had landed on one of the gambling outposts, most of the other Cons were out having fun. While Megatron made his rounds collecting his 'protection payments' from the local gambling lords. Going out the open hatch, they threw Bumblebee over the side of the cliff. Turning around, they didn't even bother to watch their naked playtoy as he fell into the planet's garbage dump.

--

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	3. Recycling

Recycling

**Recycling**

It seemed like an eternity that he fell. Suddenly, renewed agony tore through his chassis as his unprotected circuits hit the ground. Unable to even utter a moan, the Autobot weakly gasped. Then he blacked out as metal shards penetrated his naked sensory nets.. Ripping.. Destroying what little remained of his exterior nets.

Sometime later, he came to. He could feel the slight breeze of a planet's atmosphere on his pressure circuits. The faint odor of decaying organic matter assailed his olfactory sensors. Too weak to move more than his fingertips, he rubbed his fingers against the surface he lay upon. Sure enough, it felt like a garbage dump. Shaking with sobs he realized that he'd truly become nothing but garbage. A worthless chassis.. So far gone, that there was no hope. His battered, naked frame – unrecognizable – even to his friends; unable to see or even speak, there was no way he'd ever find help anyways. Yes, this is how it would end for him; All alone and in pain. With no one to bear witness to his final tears.. No one to cradle him in their arms as his spark left his chassis.

For astrohours he lay, praying that death would come quickly. Take him away from the agony of his sensory networks.. The discomfort of his uninsulated systems getting chilled.. He wondered how it would feel to off line.. To leave the prison of his chassis and wander freely as a spark, dancing amongst the stars.. So he waited, and waited – for death. But it didn't come. Instead, he heard the shuffling sounds of garbage mechs coming closer to his side of the dump.

"Hey Droct, find any steel over there?"a female voice called. Her voice flitted through the planet's air, like a lone cyberfalcon calling for a far away mate.

The sound of mech footsteps crunching through the garbage came very close. Then they stopped, so close that Bumblebee knew the garbage mech must be able to see him. "Nope,"A male voice answered. His tone was soft; the type of tone that bespoke of one that could be trusted. Bee listened to him, hearing him shift his weight. Perhaps turning and looking at him more fully as he spotted him?

"I'll look over the other side,"the female called. Her voice sounded like it was going farther away as she must had turned and began her search for recyclables in that direction.

Bumblebee could sense the male garbage mech looking him over. He could envision those optics narrowing in thought as the stranger studied him. His battered, naked chassis – now half covered in trash. The mech took a step closer. He was now so close that Bee could feel the pressure of his weight packing down the garbage next to his left side. He felt a foot softly nudge one of his legs. "You still functioning?" the male named Droct asked softly.

Feeling a wave of hope soar through his meta at the mech's question, Bee dared to show him he was alive.. Dared to dream of life over death.. Unable to speak and too weak to move much, Bumblebee barely wiggled his fingers. He felt a sense of desperation flow over him as he did so. He wanted the stranger to know he was still functioning. Perhaps… Perhaps the mech would show him some mercy? Carry him to an Autobot base or something?? Garbage crunched next to him as the mech knelt down; he felt the trash brushed off of him. "You poor mech, what happened to you?" Droct asked softly. Fingers softly ran over Bee's exposed circuits along his back. Gently, he felt himself being turned over. A hand went under his helm, carefully lifting his head up. He could imagine the garbage mech peering into his shattered optics. Perhaps wondering who he was.. Perhaps wondering how he could help? Bumblebee prayed desperately that the mech would choose to help him.. Help the damaged stranger who had no one else to turn to…

Mech feet crunching on the garbage filled his audios. "Droct, you're supposed to be looking for recyclables. What are you-" the female's voice rang out. She cut herself off in mid-sentence. Obviously the femme had seen her companion kneeling next to him. This answered her question as to what the mech was doing.

"He's still functioning, T'ran. He's alive;"Droct mumbled as he carefully propped up the limp form of Bumblebee against his side. His arm going gently around the naked mech.. Almost protectively..

The femme sighed with exasperation. "You don't have the funds left to fix up another one. When are you going to learn?" she snorted in disgust. Bee could imagine her optics narrowed to slits as she looked at him, judging his extensive damage. He wanted to yell to her that they didn't need to fix him up, just get him to an Autobot base. But he couldn't. He lay there, totally helpless. Totally at the mercy of what they decided to do. If they chose to leave him – he'd off-line soon. If they chose to take him with them – he'd have a chance of making it.. Of living..

"But sis, I can't just leave him out here. He'll short out the second a rain comes through." Bee felt himself being lifted up, cradled in the male's arms like a human baby. The damaged mech so weak, he hung limply, not even able to lift his own head. But his meta was fully aware. Listening to every word, every sound. Hanging onto a simple hope…

As Droct picked him up, Bee could feel the femme's fingers running over his shattered optics. "You just never learn, brother. You spend all your credits on parts, give these homeless wrecks your heart – then they just leave," her voice was soft, the concern for Droct obvious. Bumblebee wished he could tell them that the Autobots would pay them back for the parts, he was not homeless! But he couldn't, for Starscream had taken his voice away.

He heard Droct sigh, "But I can't just leave him, I can't." The male gripped Bee's naked form tighter to his chassis. As if he didn't want to let him go. Let him die - All alone in the dump. Fervently, the Autobot prayed that Droct would win this discussion, would take him with them. This garbage mech was his only hope.

"I just hope your not just setting yourself up for another letdown Droct," T'ran said softly, "Give him to me and I'll put him in your bed." Bee could hear the resignation in her voice. She had obviously lost this same argument before with this 'brother' named Droct. But Bee was glad she'd lost. He now had a reason to hope.

Bee felt himself passed gently to the femme garbage mech. Hearing the sounds of transformation, he knew that Droct had transformed into some kind of ground alt mode. The femme's feet crunched on the garbage as she carried him to Droct. Then pain ripped mercilessly through him, as the femme tried to gently put him in Droct's bed, but with all of his circuits exposed – any hard surface was painful. But he couldn't even shudder from the pain.. Couldn't even shed a tear.. He had barely enough energon left in him to keep his vital systems functioning.. He had none to spare.

"Droct, you do realize how much it's going to cost to rebuild him don't you? He barely has twenty percent of his armor intact, and those optics will run a fortune;"T'ran continued as she gently turned Bee on his side and folded him into a fetal position. This got all of his arms and legs safely into the confines of Droct's bed. Bee felt safe now that he was folded up into the male mech's bed. He was safe from the torture. Safe from the rapes… Even with his meta screaming in agony from his raw circuits, he relaxed.

"It'll just take time. I'll fix him piece by piece,"Droct assured her, his statement also giving Bee more hope. For this garbage mech would eventually have him fixed up, and eventually he'd get back to the Autobots again. They'd pay this mech back for his kindness. And Bee would be back home.. Amongst his friends..

Bee heard the sound of a tarp being unfolded, and then T'ran put the plastic over him and tucked it around him. He was glad for the tarp, it helped hide his naked circuits from prying optics. It made him feel even safer. And under the tarp, a weak smile crossed his lips. "Since his vocals aren't functioning, guess you'll have to give him a nick name for now;" T'ran said to her brother.

Starting his engine, Droct mumbled; "Well, since his helm is painted yellow. I'll just call him Yellow."

Snuggled, secure in his bed, the barely functioning mech sighed as he relaxed for the first time in a long time. Yes, 'Yellow' was an ok nick name until he could tell them his real name. Yes, 'Yellow' was good…

--

_It just felt wrong, that's all_. Ironhide sighed to himself as he turned another curve on his standard patrol route. The sound of tires following him filled his audios, telling him that Prowl was still with him. Yes, it was good that he had a new 'partner' on these patrols, but it still didn't mask the emptiness that was within him.

Prowl was a good partner. Quiet, non-obtrusive, and all business… He was competent in a fight and any mech would be thrilled to have been assigned with him. _But he just wasn't – Bumblebee. _Ironhide cringed as he finally admitted to himself. He missed the little bugger. Missed his cheerful, innocent eagerness as he drove the patrol… His youthful need to please, to make everyone like him… The red mech missed everything about the youngster.. Everything..

The black abyss of guilt threatened to overwhelm him again. No matter how many times the others told him it wasn't his fault, it just didn't change the facts. He'd let Bumblebee down. He'd lain there and watched as Skywarp had wrapped his arms around the yellow mech and disappeared. The last thing he remembered was the terror in his protégée's optics. The pleading look on his face as he cried for help.. The cackling that hung in the air as the freagin' Seekers had departed with their 'little catch'.

True, Ironhide had been so damaged he'd almost off-lined before the Autobots had made it to the scene. His energon coating the ground beneath him so much so, that the very color of the rocks had changed there. But that didn't matter, he had failed Bumblebee. He had let them capture him while he still functioned. He had lied. Had lied to the youngster when he had first talked him into joining the Autobots..

…_. "You sure Ironhide? I mean, I'm not strong like you," the little mech said. He looked up at him, his blue optics pleading with his mentor to tell him the truth. He wanted to know if he really had what it took to be a soldier._

_Slapping him lightheartedly on his shoulder armor, Ironhide pulled him to his chest and gave him a 'big brother' hug. "Ah, you'll be fine Bumblebee. I'll always be your partner," he promised. Patting the mech on top of his helm, he chuckled; "Those Decepticreeps will learn to stay away from us – after we give them a few aft whoopings!" _

_Bumblebee grinned tentatively, but trepidation was still in his optics. "But.. But what if they catch me.. I've heard-" he stammered._

_Ironhide shook him, the poor thing was always worried he wouldn't be tough enough in a fight. "Nah, they'll never catch you. Over my off-lined chassis – I promise!" he told him._

_His fears dispelled, Bumblebee looked up at him in idolization. "Thanks Ironhide, I'll make you proud tomorrow," he promised._

_He had made Ironhide proud. Made the trials look like sparkling play. And he had become Ironhide's patrol partner….._

Ironhide shuddered slightly with unheard sobs. He had failed his partner. Broken his oath to him! Here he was alive and free – and Primus only knew where little Bee was. By now, he was probably off-lined. It had been almost a full orbit cycle since his capture and not a rumor had been heard. The emotional blackness of despair threatened to overtake Ironhide's meta yet again… He had failed…

_--_

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	4. Gentleness

_**Author's note: **__My vision of the 'garbage mechs' is that they are similar in their history to the Junkions (G1). A split-off faction of mechs whom deserted Cybertron when the civil wars began; unlike the Junkions, the garbage Mechs had no unifying leadership. So they spread out in small groups across the galaxy, finding work in the garbage dumps and living poverty-stricken lives. Like the Junkions, they developed a distinctly different culture from the Cybertronian-based groups; with strange names and values. _

_Think of the poverty-stricken peoples living in the dumps in India; which groups like 'Feed the Children' show in their commercials. This is my vision of the garbage mechs' world._

**Gentleness**

"I'm sorry, I know this has got to hurt, Yellow," Droct said as he carried Bumblebee into the small shack he called home. He laid him down on his berth as gently as he could, wincing even as he did so. He could tell from the amount of damage on the almost-naked mech that any movement would hurt.

Bee felt a hard, smooth surface beneath him, as the garbage mech set him down gently. He figured he must be lying on Droct's bunk. Fighting the pain of his exposed circuits, the Autobot turned his head towards Droct's location and smiled. It was all he had energy to do. But he felt like he had to show the mech that he was cognizant, and was aware of what was going on around him. He hoped the mech was looking his way and would understand that he appreciated him taking a chance and rescuing him.

Droct's hand rubbed the side of his helm. "So your audio receptors are still working?" he asked, noting Bee's slight nod. "Good," he said softly and patted Bee gently on his shoulder. Bee listened to the sound of the mech's feet as they shuffled away from him. Then the sound of cabinets opening and shutting filled his audios. He wondered briefly what the mech was getting. Were they in a repair bay? But it felt like an old berth under him, not an exam table. Footsteps came back towards him, stopped next to him, and then Droct sat down by Bee. His aft making a slight thud as he sat down. The Autobot felt his head and shoulders as they were gently pulled into the garbage mech's lap. As Droct propped him up, Bee felt something against his lips. Opening his mouth, he drank the energon that Droct was offering. It burned terribly going down; the grade so bad that only the poverty stricken garbage mechs would even consider drinking it. But it was energy; Energy that Bee so desperately needed. Gagging slightly, he slowly drank.

"Sorry Yellow, I know it ain't the best – but it's all we got," Droct apologized, his voice soft. Bee felt him run his fingers across his helm, almost as if he was petting him. It was strangely comforting to him as he continued to drink the life sustaining energon.

As he finished the small ration and the mech took the cup from his lips, Bee smiled. Hoping that the mech would understand that it didn't matter how bad the energon was. His kindness in giving him the chance of life more than made up for the miserable rations. The mech bent down, and Bee heard the sound of him setting the empty cup on some kind of table or shelf. Then the mech straightened up, shifting him in his lap slightly. He felt fingers caress the stump of his helm's broken horn, could envision the garbage mech looking down at his face. Keeping his smile pasted to his lips, Bee hoped he understood. "For a mech so beat up, you sure smile a lot;" Droct mumbled softly.

Bee didn't know if this bothered the mech, so he quit smiling and bit his lip. He didn't want to offend his rescuer by any means. "No, please smile. You've got a beautiful smile Yellow," the mech chuckled softly. This quiet statement made the Autobot absolutely beam, for he did like to smile.

He felt Droct's fingers carefully begin to remove the blue shards that once were his optic lenses. It was a slightly uncomfortable sensation, to have fingers dancing around one's sensitive photo receptor units. But Bee relaxed under his gentle touch, the warmth from the small ration of low-grade beginning to radiate through his depleted systems. "Well, at least they were blue. Means you weren't a Decepticon," Droct told him. By the mech's voice, Bee could tell he thought that was a good thing, so he smiled his agreement. Yes, he'd hate to be a con.. They were evil, sadistic bastards! The mech shifted him slightly, trying to get better light to do his work. "What were you Yellow? Not built to be a garbage mech like me," Droct continued to ponder out loud as he worked the shards out of Bee's photo receptors.

Bumblebee realized that all his armor with Autobot insignia must have been ripped off. So he was just an unidentifiable wreck of a mech, from all appearances he did look like he was homeless. No wonder the mech was trying to figure out what he was by his basic characteristics! He'd just have to wait until Droct got his vocals repaired, then he could assure the garbage mech that he'd be repaid for his trouble.

The squeak of rusted hinges filled his audios, alerting him that someone else was entering the room they were in. Without realizing it, Bee's few functioning hydraulics shot up in pressure as he tensed. "So how is your new project doing?"T'ran's voice asked. At the sound of the femme's voice, Bee's pressure went down. It wasn't a con.. It was the garbage femme.

Droct finished picking the last shards of Bumblebee's lenses out. Standing up, he gently laid Bee's head back on the hard bunk. "He's doing fine. His audio receptors seem to work pretty well," he informed her. Weakly, Bee nodded. His strength slowly coming back as the low-grade continued to work through his systems.

"I've got a smaller tarp in my shack, why don't you get it? You can wrap him up in that," Bee heard the femme offer. He envisioned the idea of having tarps for protective armor. It was a humorous idea for sure, but it was better than going around almost naked. Getting grime even deeper into his sensitive grids.. Yes, he would be happy for the tarps, no matter how bad he looked in them.

Droct left his shack to fetch the tarp. Bee listened as T'ran came towards him; he felt her sit down next to his side. He could sense her leaning over him, her face mere inches from his. "I know you will leave him once he's fixed you up. You all do. Please know that he may not look like much, but his core is pure gold;" she whispered, "When you leave, do so gently. You owe him that much for all he shall do for you."

Bumblebee wanted desperately to tell her that Autobots just didn't abandon those mechs that helped them. They paid them back in full – and then some! He wouldn't just leave her brother with nothing. He owed him his very life now! But he couldn't. All he could do was weakly nod his agreement to her words.

Then Droct came back in, Bee hearing the distinctive sounds of a tarp in his hands. He envisioned what Sunstreaker would say about all this. His smile widening as he pictured a bunch of mechs trying to hold a naked Sunstreaker down so that they could cover him in tacky orange tarps. It was a hysterical vision. Perhaps he'd convince Sideswipe to do it? If anyone would – it'd be the prankster. Yes, when he got back home he would have to mention the idea to Sideswipe.

"Well, I've got a date with M'ron tonight;" T'ran said. Bee heard her stand up and footsteps heading in the direction of the door.

"Will you ask him about parts?" Droct asked in a pleading tone. Bumblebee was glad to hear that he was already thinking about the next steps - About how to fix him up so that he could one day get back home.

"Sure thing," the femme said. Then Bee heard T'ran stop near the door. "By the way Droct, you need to work on his circuits a bit before you wrap him up. Get the shards and garbage out of them," she told her brother. The squeak of protesting hinges, the door thudding to a close, and she was gone.

He heard the tarp being set down, and Droct came over to him. "So you feeling a little stronger now?" he asked him in a concerned tone.

Bee simply nodded, gasping as he struggled to sit up. He felt the mech gently push him back down with a hand on his chest wall. "No, no. You heard the lady. We've got a lot of work to do on you," Droct informed him in a soft tone.

Lying as still as he could, Bee felt the mech's hands run over his naked circuits. Probing and prodding; removing even the smallest bit of debris. As thorough and careful as Ratchet ever thought of being! Bee couldn't help but grin a little since he didn't think this gentle acting mech would ever hit him in the helm with a wretch afterward. He relaxed as he let himself remember life before the cons. A life he would soon know again thanks to Droct!

The mech worked his way down Bee's torso slowly and carefully. Then he felt Droct's fingers sink into his most sensitive circuits in his exposed pelvic region; they were also some of the most damaged circuits from the abuse that the Decepticons had dished out. Grasping in pain, Bee couldn't keep himself from jerking. Tears streamed from his empty optics, as the terror came rushing back. _The cons ramming their fists into him, cackling as he shrieked in agony. Sticking the roboprod deep inside his circuits.. Lighting his nets up in an agonizing blast of electricity… _He began to rock his head side-to-side as he relived the torture through the brief memory echo. His fingers curled around the edges of the old berth as his hydraulic pressure shot up.

Droct removed his fingers, and Bee felt himself being pulled into the mech's arms. "It'll be Ok Yellow, I won't let you be raped again.." the male gently cooed as he gently stroked Bee's helm. Bee broke down, his body shaking with sobs. He buried his head into the garbage mech's chest. He felt gentle hands rubbing his bare back, those strong arms encircling him, the voice telling him over-and-over that he'd be protected now.

Slowly, his sobs subsided, and he lay limply in the mech's arms. "You're going to be Ok Yellow. Trust me, I'll never hurt you," the gentle voice said over-and-over. Bee turned his face towards that voice, wanting to be safe from the Decepticons. He felt gentle fingers wiping away the tears, taking his pain away. Finally, he smiled at his rescuer, so glad that he seemed to understand.

"That's it Yellow. Sometimes a good cry will make you feel better," Droct said softly. Bee felt those gentle fingers stroking his helm as he was squeezed slightly. The mech pressed Bee's naked form protectively against his armored chest. "But we have to repair what we can, I know it's painful, but we got to do it," he said softly. The tone of his voice telling Bee that he understood his fear.. His terror… Fingers encircled Bee's hand. "If the pain gets to be too much, just squeeze my arm and I'll stop for a bit, Ok?"

Bee nodded, and lay back down. Wincing as Droct's fingers went back to their work. He squeezed the mech's arm several times, each time the mech stopped and patiently waited until Bee nodded that he could handle more.

Finally, Droct began to work on his backside. But again, as he started to work on Bee's aft; the Autobot had to take breaks from the agony of the repair. The mech was overly patient with him, seeming to understand the physical and emotional trauma that Bee had apparently gone through.

The repairs done, Bee slowly sat up. He felt the mech put his arms around him again. This time, Bee circled the mech with his as well. Setting his head on Droct's shoulder, Bee sighed. Just glad that such a kind and patient mech had found him. Droct felt his sigh, "You're a tough little mech, Yellow. To even survive what must've happened to you, is a miracle.."

----

"Prime, I'm worried about Ironhide," Prowl stated flatly as he shut the office door behind him. Sitting down in the chair across from Prime's desk, the smaller mech leaned back and crossed his arms. He locked his intense gaze onto Optimus.

"What seems to be the problem? He's performing his duties as always," Optimus said with a raised optic ridge.

"I know, but his meta's not really into it. He's – distracted," Prowl said, his tone deadly serious.

Prime sighed as he leaned back and studied the pragmatic mech. He had a good idea what was bothering Ironhide, it bothered him as well, but there was nothing that could be done - except to move on. But if Prowl had noticed a change in his new partner, then Ironhide was just not dealing with the loss of Bumblebee very well. "Does he need to be pulled off the front lines?" he asked. For Prowl wouldn't energon-coat anything. If Ironhide was distracted enough to possibly put himself and others in danger – then he needed to be re-assigned.

"No, I think he's only holding it together because of his duties," Prowl sad with a shake of his head.

"Then what's your recommendation? There's not much hope of ever finding Bumblebee now, it's been too long," Prime said sadly. But for the first time, his optics merely filled with energon tears – instead of flowing with them. He felt the great weight of guilt ride as heavily on his shoulder armor, as was on Ironhide's. He was the commander. He had ordered the partners to patrol that route. He had sent them into that ambush. But, unlike Ironhide, he was accepting what had happened. As leader he had too. He had to accept it, learn from it, and move on from it.

"We're all tore up about it, but Ironhide's not moving past it. He's just silent. Just staring off into the sky as if he can still see Bumblebee.. He won't even talk about it with me," Prowl stated. From his expression it was obvious that he had tried.

Prime shook his head in sympathy for what Ironhide was going through. Everyone had known that he had considered the youngster as something of a younger brother. As his little protégée.. Just as he himself had come to regard the cheerful yellow mech as almost a son. But Prime had accepted the fact that Bumblebee was off-lined by now. No mech had ever returned from con captivity after this much time had passed. "Let's take him off patrol then, but assign him the position of Chief Weapon's Officer. Perhaps the change of responsibilities will help to reset his meta," he said.

"As you command," Prowl said with a nod. He too, felt that a change of scenery would do his partner some good. And this new title would have even more responsibilities. So perhaps Ironhide would become too immersed in work to continue to stay depressed.

---

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	5. Comfort

**Comfort**

Standing still, Bumblebee held his arms up as Droct had asked him too. The terrible tasting energon was filling him with strength as it slowly coursed through his depleted systems. Any time he thought he was facing the gentle mech, Bee smiled. For it was the only thing he had to repay the mech for his kindness – at least until Bee could get back to the Autobots.

He heard Droct cutting another section of the tarp, and then the mech gently wrapped it around one of his upper legs. Running some heavy duty tape around the section, he secured it in place. Yes, Bee knew he would look terrible all covered in sections of tarp; but at least his sensitive circuits would have some type of protection. And he would feel better not walking around naked. The Decepticons had ripped off almost all his protective armor; only that on his lower legs, feet, helm and lower arms; remained.

Droct kept apologizing for the tarp, and promising he'd buy Yellow some type of more permanent protective armor, as soon as he had the funds. Bee wished the mech would quit apologizing all the time, for he was just thankful that Droct had saved his life.

"Well, I've got you covered as best I can;" Droct said as he softly patted the bot on his shoulder. Making sure he didn't hurt his raw circuits. "Why don't you sit down, and I'll try to wax what's left of your armor."

Grateful, Bee sat down carefully on the edge of the berth. Though his circuits were now protected from dust, water and prying optics – they were still very sensitive to pressure. Since, now he didn't have a hard protective covering to take the pressure off of them. So he shifted slightly, trying to relieve the pressure on his more damaged regions.

He felt Droct gently take one of his legs and put it in his lap. Then the comforting circular strokes of a buffing rag spreading wax. The mech hummed some kind of strange tune under his breath while he worked, the melody of it serving to help Bee relax. Helped him enjoy the company of his new friend…

As the gentle mech worked on him, Bee fell into his memories back with the Autobots; No, he didn't have a bond mate. Most of the bots seemed to think he was too small. He seemed to be everyone's good buddy – but no one wanted romance. There were other small Autobots; but Huffer whined so much that no one hung around him, and Cliffjumper was so bent on kicking Decepticon afts – that he was always too busy. Bee sighed, his human friend, Spike, seemed to always be the one waxing him. A job that bond mates normally did for each other, but Bee had learned to deal with the personal solitude.

Droct picked up his other leg, and began on it. His touch was so gentle, so welcome after the terror of the Decepticons. Bee felt his circuits warm in response to the garbage mech's light touch.

Bee had been a little surprised of these garbage mechs and their generosity. They had nothing, they were the most impoverished mechs in the Galaxy, and no one paid them much attention. Even the Decepticons didn't seem to notice their pathetic lives. Yet, Droct had eagerly taken him in. He had taken on the responsibility of a severely damaged stranger; not even seeming to care whether Bee was worth the risk or not. Droct's generosity truly astonished Bumblebee, and he promised himself that he'd make good on what he owed the garbage mech. He'd pay him back three times over!

Finished with his legs, Droct's fingers closed around his and got him to lay his arms across his lap. Gently, he worked on Bee's arms. Coming to the section that Thrust had melted, Droct whistled; "Boy Yellow, you sure did get into it with some gang of thugs."

Bee merely nodded. Yes, the Decepticons were a hell of a gang of thugs; he thought.

Droct stood up, standing between Bee's spread legs, and he began to gently work on what was left of Bee's helm. At first, the sensation of his barely concealed circuits pressing against the mech's protective armor, made Bee very anxious. He was still in shock over everything that the Cons had done to him. But as the gentle mech worked on his helm, Bee found himself relaxing, able to begin to trust a mech again.

Sitting down next to him with a thud of metal aft armor hitting wood, Bee listened as Droct began to screw the caps back on the containers of wax. Putting his hand on the mech's arm, Bee shook his head and motioned for Droct to hand him the waxing supplies. "But you can't even see where I need it," Droct protested.

Bee merely shrugged and smiled, pointing at his blind optics and then pointing to where he thought Droct's face was. "Oh, you want me to tell you where?" Droct asked.

Nodding, Bee put on one of his biggest smiles. He had to do something to show his rescuer his appreciation. Standing up, he waited until he heard Droct lie down. Then, with Droct guiding his blind hands, he began to repay the mech a little. The least he could do was give the mech the same normal maintenance that the mech had given him. Made it feel like a more 'normal' relationship between friends. Well, at least that was how Autobots helped each other. But as his hands moved along Droct's frame, Bee was confused. This mech seemed to be put together very oddly, almost as if pieces had been shoved together with little rhyme or reason.

Though he couldn't actually see the mech, with what he felt with his hands, he began to put together a mental image of what this garbage mech looked like. Droct was a very strange looking mech; his helm felt similar to how Ironhide's looked, and he wore a mask. He was similar in size to Bumblebee, but had a much bulkier chassis. He didn't seem to be able to lie flat; Bee could feel some kind of strange humping of the mech's uneven shoulders. All-in-all, he seemed to be very distorted and deformed in his build.

Bee patted him to roll over, and began to wax his back. Working his way down, he realized that the mech was indeed hump backed, more on one side than the other. Then his hands ran over the tires on the mech's thighs and lower legs. There was little trend left on them, and he swore he felt the metal belt on one of them. This mech was in great need of tires; yet, he was willingly going to spend his funds on fixing up Bee instead. Bumblebee frowned to himself, for he didn't think that was right. Well, he'd have to make sure the Autobots gave this mech all new tires then!

Finished, Bee put the lids back on the supplies. Hearing Droct sit up, he was surprised to feel the mech's hand on his shoulder. Turning, he put on his biggest smile when he thought he was facing the garbage mech. "You know Yellow, I don't think anyone has ever put that much time and care into my maintenance. Thanks;" the mech mumbled softly. His tone had a strange emotion in it that Bee couldn't place.

Sitting down next to him, Bee patted his humped shoulder. Hoping he'd realize that that's just how mechs were supposed to help each other. If someone gave you a good wax, you returned the favor.

---

"You're not serious!" Ironhide growled as he glared at his partner.

Prowl merely shrugged as he met the ticked off optics with his own. Even though he'd agreed with Prime that a job change would be good for his partner, he'd also realized that the order would be met with just a touch of hostility. Ironhide just hated change, and made no secret about it. "You should be pleased; your rank goes up a step with the new job. You'll have more credits in your account," he stated matter-of-factly.

Ironhide snorted, "I care about that as much as I like eating liquid Nitrogen! A fraggin' glorified desk job is all it is and you know it!"

"You'll be in charge of assigning weapons and testing the recruits. It's not exactly a desk job," Prowl explained.

The red mech glared at him, and then a thought seemed to cross his meta. "I got re-assigned because a certain slogger went blabbing his vocalizer – didn't I?" he demanded to know as he moved towards Prowl.

Not afraid of his partner in the least, Prowl merely shrugged. He wasn't about to energon-coat things. Not to Prime and most definitely not to Ironhide. If Ironhide couldn't face the fact that his depression was affecting his performance and causing those around him some concern, then that was his problem – not Prowl's. After all, his responsibility was in making sure that the Autobot ranks were all in top-running condition. He couldn't play favorites and allow one that wasn't – to stay on the front lines.

"Why you little fraggin' prick!" Ironhide growled as he swung at him.

Prowl ducked as he pegged Ironhide hard in his abdominal armor with a quick right hook. "If you can't get over it, then you are endangering us all," he stated as he spun away from another one of Ironhide's swings.

"There's nothing wrong with me, you back-stabbing piece of slag!" Ironhide screamed as he lunged at the slightly shorter mech.

Evading the red mech's grasp with a quick roll, Prowl kicked out his leg. It landed soundly against Ironhide's just as he was taking another stride forward. Caught by surprise, he tumbled to the ground as his feet went out from under him. In a seamless motion, Prowl rolled back onto his feet. "You need to seek help Ironhide. If you won't talk to your own partner – find someone else to talk too!" he said.

Clambering back onto his feet, Ironhide glared at Prowl. "I don't need nobody. I said I'm fine!" he growled. In the blink of an optic, he had raised his arm and fired some liquid Nitrogen at Prowl.

Prowl leaped into a roll, barely avoiding the chemical spray. But the wall behind where he had been standing wasn't so lucky. It froze solid in an instant and then shattered into a million shards. "Ya, you don't need help," he snorted, "Here you are trying to off-line your own partner for giving a frag about you! Yep, logic circuits fully functional."

As the wall shattered and his meta registered what Prowl had just said, Ironhide was shocked into stopping his rampage. His cannon retracted as he stood there with an almost confused expression on his face for an astrosecond or two. Then his optics hardened again as he turned to look at Prowl. "I wasn't going to off-line you. I was just going to teach your aft a lesson for going behind my back," he snorted as he started to walk off. "And stay out of my slaggin' business," he added as he disappeared.

Getting up from the ground, Prowl looked after his partner. A sad frown covered his face. Ironhide was so depressed that he was pushing everyone away. Everyone that cared about him! And Prowl had no idea what to do about it. Perhaps he should discuss it with Hound? After all, that mech had recently lost his partner too. But he was taking it a lot better than Ironhide was. Yes, talking with Hound would be a good idea.

Transforming, Prowl drove through the new 'door way' that Ironhide had so conveniently made for him. Jumping over the curb, his tires hit the pavement with a slight squeal. Turning right, he headed towards the Eastside Barracks and Hound's quarters.

---

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	6. Rest and Work

**Rest**

"Well the floor's awful dirty. You take the berth, keep your circuits clean;" Droct ordered, as he pushed Bee towards the small hard berth.

Though he understood why the mech wanted him to stay off the floor, Bumblebee didn't think it was right that he have the berth while his host slept on the dusty floor. They were both fairly small mechs, surely they could figure out a way to share the bunk. Grabbing the mech's arm, Bee shook his head and patted the berth beside him.

"But it'd be to tight a fit. I might damage your circuits if we try to both cram ourselves on it;" the mech protested. He was obviously more concerned with his guest's welfare, than his own.

But Bee wouldn't be swayed, his just shrugged and patted the bunk again. He heard Droct sigh, and could sense the mech look at him in exasperation. Finally, the mech sat down next to him.

"You know, for a mech that can't talk, you sure are determined to get your way," Droct chided. But Bee could here the distinct ring of amusement in his soft voice.

The tarp-covered mech just smiled and nodded his agreement to Droct's statement.

After much jostling, the two small mechs figured out a reasonably comfortable way to share the bunk. Lying on his side, Droct crammed his back up against the wall. Bee lay on his side, with his back pressed tightly against the other mech. Feeling the garbage mech put his arm protectively over his side, Bee smiled. It felt good to feel safe again.

He felt Droct sigh, "You sure are a piece of work, Yellow. All beat up and such, yet still seem to have some spirit left." The mech patted him lightly on his side, as if congratulating him on being a tough mech.

Bee nodded, patting Droct's arm in agreement. He liked it when the mech talked, for Droct tended to make comments that Bee could answer with nods and shakes of his head. That way, it didn't seem like such a one-sided conversation.

He could sense Droct's smile to his nod, the mech shifting slightly, bringing him tighter against his tarp-covered back. "I was being honest Yellow, when I said that no one'd hurt you here. You trust me," he said with conviction, almost like he'd consider protecting Bee with his own life now.

Again, Bee nodded. Reaching up, he squeezed the mech's arm which lay over him. Wrapping his fingers around Droct's forearm, he pulled so that Droct now had his hand against Bee's chest. He wanted the mech to understand he felt safe here.

Droct squeezed his hand in reply. "I'm sorry it's going to take a while to fix you up. You seem like a good mech, I wish I could afford all the parts you need."

The tarp-covered mech really wished that Droct would quite apologizing for things he couldn't help! Reaching his hand back, Bee patted Droct's threadbare tires. Then he patted Droct's hand against his tarped chest, shaking his head.

"Ah, I can survive on these old things. They still get me where I'm going," Droct said softly, understanding what Bee was trying to say.

Again, Bee patted his tires, then his own chest and shook his head.

Droct patted his side, "Nah, I can wait. You need optics and protective armor first. So you don't get damaged worse."

Bee shook his head again, it just wasn't right!

Droct chuckled, "You are a persistent mech. But I'm not budging on this one."

Sagging unhappily against him, Bee made his disappointment obvious.

Squeezing his hand, the gentle mech rubbed his fingers over Bee's palm. "Tell ya what, if you're so determined about my tires, once we get your optics in. I'll teach ya which alloys will bring us the most funds. Then we can get your armor, and later, my tires – a little faster."

Satisfied with the compromise, Bee promised himself he'd try and learn quickly, for he owed his new friend at least that much!

Then both of them went into defragmentation.

**---**

Rebooting, Bee felt the comforting press of his new friend against his back. It was a little disconcerting to still have the sensation of barely concealed circuits pressing against the armor of another mech, but he knew that Droct wouldn't hurt him like that. Shifting a little, he pressed tighter against the mech. He had rarely had the opportunity to wake up in the arms of another, and even though Droct was just a friend, it felt good.

His thoughts wandered back to the Autobots. He wondered if they were still searching for him, or if they now thought he was dead. A vision of him getting off a shuttle back on Earth, unexpected by his friends, and their predictable reactions – filled him with warmth.

For now that he lay, safe in the gentle garbage mech's arms, he knew with certainty that he'd see his friends again! And he'd be sure to surprise T'ran, and pay Droct back for everything he'd bought to repair him.

He felt Droct begin to stir. The mech unconsciously rubbed his fingers across the tarp's surface, not realizing that he caused sensations to run through Bee's barely concealed grids. Fully waking, the mech realized what he'd done as he felt the yellow mech shiver slightly. Stammering his apologies, he swiftly sat up and got off the bunk.

Bumblebee wished the damned mech would quit apologizing for everything! It hadn't really bothered him. Actually, it had felt good.

----

The darkness enveloped him. The demons within him were controlling every thought, every action. Ironhide drove recklessly forward, not caring where he was going – only trying to hide from where he'd been. The internal turmoil was too much for him to bear, too much for any mech to bear! He was a failure, plain and simple. A failure to his faction and a failure to the one mech who had depended on him the most…

Flooring it, he spun his tires on the slick surface of Cybertron's main beltway as he flew into the night. His rpms in the red, his engine close to overheating – close to seizing up. But he didn't care. Death would be welcome. Then he would again join his little buddy. Be by his side always. To make up for not being there as the Seekers tortured him to death!

Suddenly an explosion hit his side armor. He began to flip over-and-over even as he transformed. He tried to pull out his gun, but then he was falling.. Plummeting to the lower level as his momentum carried him over the side of the elevated road way. It seemed like Vorns that he fell before the planet's surface rose up to meet him. His armor cracked as he smashed down, almost knocking him unconscious.

Running an automatic systems scan, he realized with dread that his battle processor was offline. Desperately he began the reboot sequences, trying to get back online so that he could protect himself. But it was too late as he reached for his gun. The heavy foot of Wildrider stomped down on his arm.

"Well, well, look what we've found… A pathetic Autobot who's ran out of luck!" the Ferrari snickered as he looked down at the helpless mech.

"Its you that's run out of luck you little punk!" Ironhide growled as he tried to stand up so that he could fight. He was kicked hard from behind, right in his lower back linkages. The sickening sound of popping could be heard as several of them snapped under the strain. He collapsed to the ground, his lower chassis now useless. As he hit the ground, he scanned around him with his optics, dread filling him as he spotted the other Stunticons that were with Wildrider.

Drag Strip kicked him again, stomping down on his arms as hard as he could, enjoying the sound of cracking armor. "Looks like you lost the freagin' race," he smirked.

"Eat slag," the red mech replied as he grunted in pain. This earned him a beating as Deadend joined his comrades. They beat him until he was barely functioning, his engine choking as he gasped for air.

"Guess we should take our little 'catch' back to base," Deadend snickered. He looked down at the battered Autobot, noticing those blue optics were staring at him. "And quit staring at me!" he shrieked as he stomped down on one side of Ironhide's face; Destroying both the lens and the optic socket on that side.

Pain shot through him as his optic shattered, curling into a fetal position Ironhide could do nothing more than gasp for air and groan. He was totally helpless now. Blackness filled his meta. The drowning blackness of his depression… He deserved this for his failure. To endure what Bumblebee had endured.

"Frag, if we take him back then the Seekers will do what they did to that little yellow one!" Wildrider griped. Reaching down, he grabbed the barely conscious mech and lifted him up.

"Ya, let's just have our fun and destroy the freager, that yellow one got too broken away. He wasn't fun anymore," Drag Strip smirked in agreement. He looped his other hand under the battered mech's arm and helped Wildrider drag him over to a retaining wall.

Wildrider snickered as he tossed the limp mech's upper chassis on top of the wall. "How far do you think we threw the corpse off that cliff?" he smirked to Drag Strip. He could feel a slight shiver in the red mech as he sat on top of him, and he didn't think it was because of what they were fixing to do to him either. He knew that yellow mech. Knew exactly who they were joking about. And it was tearing him apart inside; which simply made Wildrider want to discuss it even more...

At their words, Ironhide's meta seemed to crash into the abyss of his depression. Little Bee was dead. Was truly dead.. These freagers had even gone so far as to desecrate his chassis. He'd never rest in peace now. Never be brought back to Cybertron for proper internment. Energon tears flowed from his one remaining optic. Tears for what his failure had forced the little mech to endure. And as the Decepticons began their torture, he forced himself to concentrate on every action, every bit of pain. This was his punishment for what he had done..

As they forced his ports open and drove their fists within him – he screamed Bumblebee's name. As he felt them enter him and take him from within – he whimpered to the yellow mech's ghost to forgive him. Even as they forced their cables down his throat – he thought about little Bee having to do this very thing… Erratic impulses shot through his meta as the torture continued, confusing reality with fragmented thoughts mixed with memories. He swore he felt another mech lying next to him, his audios picking up a familiar voice whimpering. Weakly, he turned his head so that his one remaining optic could see. Flickers of light shot into his meta, colors swirling as his fragmented logic circuits strove to combine reality with memory. The vision of little Bumblebee lying battered beside him flowed through his meta. The cons actions were mirrored on the yellow mech as they were being done to him. Then the vision burst into a million pieces as the first con stopped ramming into his aft, their bonding cable linking with his internal port, their fiery spark shooting through him in a wave of total agony.

After what seemed to be an eternity of agony, they were finally satiated and left. He slipped off the retaining wall and landed in a heap. His chassis coated in his own spilt fluids mixed with that which the cons had released inside him when they had relieved their pent up pressure. It dripped out of his torn ports, coating the ground underneath him. He groaned weakly, knowing that he couldn't move much, and if no one found him, he'd soon join his little friend.

But somehow he felt a strange happiness drive out his despair. Somehow Bee was now a part of him since they had suffered the same horror. Ironhide felt that he had finally gotten the punishment that he had so deserved. Somehow he had now paid for his failure. Looking at the brightening sky with his one remaining optic, the battered mech finally smiled. If he did off-line out here, he would do so in peace…

As his fragmented meta started to shutdown, the vision of Bumblebee came back to him. The yellow mech seemed somewhat transparent. He knelt over Ironhide's crumpled chassis and touched him with a gentle hand. His gentle blue optics locked with Ironhide's one remaining one. "It's ok Ironhide. I forgive you," he whispered.

Ironhide smiled haphazardly, since only one side of his face would even move now. The other side was smashed in, unrecognizable even to his closest friends. "I miss you kid. I miss you so much," he whispered. His words were not really audible, just coming out as a gasp.

Little Bee still seemed to understand what had been said; as if he could read his very thoughts. And with a loving gleam in his angelic optics he leaned down and kissed the top of Ironhide's dented helm. "I know. I miss you too. But you gotta pay them back for me. Promise me you'll pay them back," he whispered.

His meta fading, Ironhide silently promised. The fragmented blend of memory echo and reality disappearing as he slipped into darkness.

--

You know what to do …Please review.. It helps me improve..


	7. Work

**Work **

He heard the door slam open and mech feet stomp in. "Time for work Droct, we need to beat the others," T'ran's voice announced as she rudely interrupted Bee's thoughts. Bee slowly pealed himself from the comfortable warmth and safety of lying in Droct's arms and stood up. Turning his head in the direction of her voice he smiled his greeting.

"Your project looks a bit stronger today," she observed as Bee stood up. Her tone showed that she meant it as a compliment to both mechs. Warmth spread through the tarp covered mech, he did so want her approval. He really did want her to grow to like him. Bee nodded to her with a grin, he was indeed much stronger than yesterday. Thanks to them…

He imagined Droct nodding towards him. "Yep. Guess he could come with us. If I just pull the trailer, he can ride in my bed," the mech said. Bee relaxed, because he really didn't want to be left alone. He'd rather follow his friends around blindly than to face his memory echoes all alone. At least if he was busy, maybe he wouldn't have them. If he was trapped all alone in the shack, he knew that it wouldn't take long for every sound to scare him. He was blind and basically still naked. Totally defenseless to anyone who would wish to use him.. But as long as his rescuer was with him, he was not defenseless.

"Well, guess so. It'd be better if he could see. But I guess he could just stand by the trailer and stack the recyclables as we pass them to him;" T'ran's voice agreed.

Bee nodded excitedly to her words, desperate to do anything that would keep him with them. To do anything to help prove his worth to them.

"Did you ask M'ron how much lenses and repairing his vocals will cost?" Droct asked. Bee turned to him and smiled, letting him know that he'd asked the question that had been on his meta.

"Yep, about the same. So I'd repair his optics first, he could be more useful then. Maybe with him working too, it won't take as long to save up for the rest," T'ran stated matter-of-factly. Bee could almost picture her as the pragmatic Prowl he knew so well.

"Did ya order them already?"

She snorted; apparently she always ordered things and told him later. "Of course. They'll come in on the next shuttle."

Bee felt Droct's hand squeeze his shoulder. "Few more day cycles, and you'll be able to see again."

Bee turned toward Droct's voice, smiling and nodding. He'd like to be able to see again, and though he really wanted to be able to talk; he guessed that that could wait. Boldly he wrapped his arms around his rescuer, wanting the mech to know how much it really meant to him.

T'ran's chuckle filled the shack. "It seems your little Yellow has already grown some attachment to you," she noted.

Bee felt Droct go a touch warmer, could envision a blush going over his face. Pulling away from him, he mouthed the word 'friends' as he patted that strange-feeling shoulder armor.

"Ya, um, guess we're friends now," Droct stammered to his sister.

The sound of a mech turning and opening the door filled Bee's audios. "Well good Droct, I hope he turns out to be a true friend this time," her voice said as she walked outside.

Bee nodded as hard as he could, hoping that Droct was watching. He wanted the mech to know that he wouldn't leave him with nothing like all the others before him had done. He'd pay him back… Double!

He heard a sad sigh, but Droct said nothing. Fingers gently encircled his and Droct led him out of the shack, then he heard the mech transform. While T'ran went and got the trailer and began to hitch it to her brother; Bee felt his way along his friend's alt mode. Carefully climbing into the truck bed, he sat down cross legged and grabbed the sides. He'd work to the best of his minimal abilities, he owed his friend that much!

He felt Droct slowly pull out, the rough uneven surface causing the truck to jerk and bounce. The garbage mech tried to go as slow as he could, hoping that he wasn't jarring his passenger too badly. But Bee just ground his jaws against the discomfort of his sensitive circuits being hit with the sudden pressures and jolts.

"I'm sorry Yellow, ground's pretty rough here. I know it's jarring your circuits." He heard Droct say softly. So soft, that Bee could barely here him over the squeaking of Droct's own bad shocks. Cringing as he listened to those failing shocks, Bee still couldn't believe that the mech would fix up others – and neglect his own chassis in order to do so..

Squeezing his hands that were gripping the sides of Droct's bed, Bee hoped he knew that he understood. That it really wasn't that uncomfortable! As he thought that, the truck hit another jarring bump, causing Bee to swoon in pain. Grinding his jaws, he tried to ignore it.

"Hey Droct, you ugly slogger, found yourself another one – huh?" a male voice insulted.

Several more unseen garbage mechs snickered. "Yep, you're so ugly the only way you have friends is to fix up worthless wrecks!" another insulted.

Droct stayed quiet, obviously used to these insults. But little Bumblebee wanted to jump up out of his bed and strangle the speakers. Granted, he didn't know what Droct actually looked like, but he didn't think the mech could be that ugly. And plus, Droct didn't rescue a 'worthless wreck' – Bee was an Autobot!

"Why don't you pricks just shut up," T'ran's voice rang out.

More snickering; "Why do you stick by your ugly brother, T'ran? He's such a loser he can't even defend himself!"

"Do I need to send M'ron to visit you?" the femme asked. Silence followed her words, so obviously she had threatened them.

They drove a bit further, then Droct stopped and Bee slowly climbed out. Hearing Droct transform, he felt the mech gently put an arm around him. "I'm sorry about those rude rust buckets. Don't listen to them, you're not a worthless wreck," Droct whispered to him.

As T'ran and Droct walked off, beginning their daily search for recyclables, Bee stood with his hand on the trailer. Once again, the mech had apologized to him. But that's not what bothered Bee. What bothered him was the fact that neither the mech nor his sister denied the fact that Droct was ugly. Could the gentle mech really be THAT ugly? Perhaps when Bee got back to the Autobots, he'd ask Ratchet and Wheeljack to rebuild his friend – if Droct wanted. He owed the mech that much.

---

For several hours, Bee stood by the trailer, keeping a hand on it so that he wouldn't lose his bearings. Periodically, he'd hear either T'ran or Droct approaching. Sometimes he could hear metal being dragged, sometimes the recyclable was small enough to be carried.

"Careful, Yellow; this one's a little jagged." T'ran informed him as he reached for the recyclable she had dragged up.

Smiling, he nodded. Running his fingers along its surface, he judged by feel, just how jagged it was. Positioning his hands to where he could keep it off of his tarp-protected arms, he carefully loaded it into the trailer. In his processor, he had a mental picture of how the trailer was loaded – developing that picture through his sense of touch.

T'ran stood there a second, watching the blind mech load the piece. She had to admit, he seemed pretty smart and willing to work. Doing what he could despite his great limitations. "You're a tough little mech, Yellow," she complimented.

He listened to her as her steps faded into the distance. He knew that she was a nice femme, just overly concerned for her brother. She really had no hard feelings towards him, she was just worried that he'd hurt Droct.

Smiling to himself, he tried to envision their reactions, when he got Optimus to send them new tires and funds in order to repay them. He hoped they'd be as happy as he thought they'd be. For he truly owed them that much!

---

**Discovery**

Hound stopped in a squeal of tortured rubber. Trailbreaker ran into his tailpipes full speed since he had given no warning. The sound of their impact echoed from the disserted and bombed out remains of the buildings in this disputed quadrant.

"What'd you stop for?" Trailbreaker asked in a bewildered tone as he transformed and rubbed his helm. A grimace of pain flashed across his face as he ran his fingers across the new dent.

Hound transformed, drawing air deeply into his olfactory sensor as he did so. "Sorry, I smelled something," he explained in a distracted tone. Continuing to intake air in big deep drawls, he soon found the direction that the scent was waifing from. Turning his entire chassis that way, he started walking to the edge of the elevated roadway.

"What type of smell?" his partner inquired. Keeping his long range scanners peeled for Decepticon activity, his optics followed the detective as he moved towards the edge.

"Energon and other fluids, not more than a few cycles old either," Hound explained. He noticed a newly damaged side wall to the road way, as if a ground mech had recently smashed through it. Kneeling down, he sniffed again as his optics and hands scanned the damage. There were traces of various mech fluids on the torn sides, but not enough to account for the intensity of the odor he was detecting. "But I'm detecting far more of a concentration than what I'm seeing here," he mumbled as he rubbed his chin in thought.

Trailbreaker scanned the skies warily as he walked over to the damaged side wall. "Perhaps the mech went all the way down?" he offered.

Hound sighed as he stood up. "Perhaps, but that's a long ways down. Whoever it is, is either heavily damaged or off lined from the impact," he said as he shook his head sadly, "If we're lucky, it was one of those damned Stunticon freaks."

"Ya, but if we're not?" Trailbreaker muttered as he looked over the side, trying to see the mech. His optics picked up a large dried up puddle of fluids far down below, but then there was a trail of it that went under the elevated road way and out of his view.

The detective sighed. It was a long way down and they'd have to go the long way around to get there since they couldn't fly. But if it was an Autobot, they had the moral obligation to do so. Even if it was just to bring the off lined back for internment. "See anything?" he asked, hopeful that Trailbreaker's sharp optics would discern the corps's insignia.

"Nope, whoever it was wasn't off lined by the fall. They left a trail behind them," Trailbreaker reported.

"Fraggers," Hound mumbled as he too looked over the edge and saw the dried up puddle of fluids. From his sensory data, he knew that it had been several day cycles since the accident, and from the amount of fluids spilt, there was little hope for the mech's survival. But since there was a chance he had been an Autobot, they had to make their way down there and start the recovery operation of the chassis.

"Well, guess we'd better head back the way we came and get down to the lower levels," Trailbreaker sighed. His tone showed just how depressing he found these recovery operations to be.

The two Autobots transformed and rolled out; their sparks now heavy with grief.

---

"Geeze, he's a mess," Trailbreaker said as he knelt and carefully rolled over the corpse. The extent of the damage made the corpse almost grotesque. One side of his face was smashed in, his armor so cracked and shredded that he was unrecognizable to them. But one thing was obvious, he had an Autobot insignia. He had been one of them.

Hound scoped the scene. "Poor bastard was still alive after he hit the ground," he wandered along the smeared trail of fluids to the retaining wall. "They dragged him here and laid him over it," he continued. Coming over to the mech, he pulled his legs apart. Nausea filled him as the evidence of what had been done to the injured mech became obvious. "Then the freagers raped him, several of them from the looks of it. When they were finished they left him to die," he finished.

A deathly silence pervaded the scene, as the two mechs looked at the corpse in sadness. No mech deserved to off line that way. No mech deserved to be force bonded with as he laid there helpless. It was obviously a Decepticon assault. They were the only sick bastards who would do such a thing.

"Well, I guess we'll have to remove his empty spark chamber and processors. Take them back for analysis and then internment," Trailbreaker said with emotion in his voice. A tear rolled down his gray cheek, for even though he didn't know who the wrecked corpse had been, it was an Autobot.. A brother…

Sliding his fingers under the mech's smashed bumper, he finally found the release latches. Prying the armor section up, he held it open as Hound knelt down and began to work on the latches to open the mech's spark chamber.

"Slag it Trailbreaker – the mech's still alive!" Hound exclaimed as the panel opened and the soft blow glow of the living spark filled his optics.

"Really?!?" Trailbreaker stammered in shock. He quickly grasped the armor section that he had dropped in shock, barely avoiding smashing his partner's helm.

Hound studied the weakly pulsating spark; it was obviously close to system failure. Moving his hands over, he accessed the emergency panel to the mech's primary core. Prying it open, his optics opened wide in anxiety as he noticed how critical the mech was. "Trailbreaker, if we don't get a little energon into him, he'll offline within the next breem," he said as he looked up at his partner.

The scout looked over the mech's tortured chassis. For an astrosecond he wondered if Ratchet could even piece the wreck back together. But they had to get the mech to him still functioning to even give him a chance. "How much energon does he need, to make it back to the East base?" he asked.

Tapping his fingers on the dented armor of the mech's leg, Hound made a quick calculation. "Eighth of a cube," he told Trailbreaker.

Since a mech normally had three cubes in their reserves and one circulating, this much wouldn't hurt a fully charged mech to donate. "Link him with the emergency tubes to one of my primary lines in my right leg," he offered.

Hound nodded as he reached into one of his storage compartments and fished out an emergency splice line. Leaning back into the prone mech, he carefully poked the needle directly into his primary core. Clapping all the outgoing lines except for the one that went to his spark chamber, he effectively sealed the system from any further leakage.

Sitting back up, he looked at his partner, who was still standing there holding the mech's armor open. "Top right?" he asked. He received his answer as a panel slid back, exposing Trailbreaker's primary fuel lines going to his leg. Carefully, Hound poked the needle on the other end of the splice line into the pulsing line. A glow started to go down the line as gravity pulled energon down towards the damaged mech.

"Just stay still, I'll cut off the flow in half a breem. Should keep his spark alive until we get him to that base," he said. He rubbed the unknown mech's arm gently as he controlled the flow into his core. "Stay with us buddy, stay with us…" he told him, even though he knew the mech couldn't hear him….

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So many of you have added this to your alerts, but so few comment… Am I screwing it up with the rewrite – or making it better?


	8. To See Without Sight

**To See without Sight**

For several day cycles, their pattern of work and sleep remained constant. Bee got to where he really liked the two siblings. But Droct was his favorite. In a sense, the pathetic garbage mech reminded him of Optimus Prime, for Droct thought of everyone else's needs first and foremost. And he tried to protect Bee as best he could.

Waking up, Bee enjoyed the familiar sensation of being pressed up against his friend. Yes, these mechs were poor beyond Bee's comprehension – but they filled their lives with gentleness and love. So different from the Autobots, who just enjoyed love when they had the time between the violent battles of their war. But the Autobots never realized just how empty their lives were. So caught up were they in the day-to-day struggle that they couldn't ever see what it really meant to be alive.

He had continued to think on the fact that all these mechs seemed to consider his gentle friend so terribly ugly. Perhaps it was the fact that Bee had gotten used to being blind now. He thought his friend was beautiful, since all he knew was what was the spark of this mech. And Droct's spark was beautiful, to be sure. He knew Droct had never been bonded, never had anyone even interested. And the mech had filled that emptiness within him by rescuing and fixing up a multitude of dumped, almost dead, mechs – whom he had found in the dump.

No, Droct had nothing more to offer a mech than his kindness and love. And every mech he'd helped had simply left him behind as they went on with their lives. Bee was saddened by this, for the gentle garbage mech truly deserved to have someone to call his own.

With a start, Bee realized that he was becoming very attached to Droct. Then he wondered how he would feel when he could see again, and see Droct for the physically ugly mech he apparently was. He pictured the most grotesque mech he could think of, pictured it with Droct's voice, Droct's gentleness. And he realized he didn't care what Droct looked like. He was falling in love with him.

Pressing his body tighter against his sleeping friend, Bee wondered if Droct would even be interested in returning with him to the Autobots. Sure, he'd have to deal with Tracks and Sunstreaker – but the rest of the Autobots wouldn't care if the mech was ugly. Perhaps the gentle garbage mech could work as the maintenance mech for the bots. Maybe even learn under Ratchet to be a medic?

Turning over carefully, Bee faced his sleeping friend. Tracing the mech's armor with his fingertips, Bee again tried to put together a complete mental picture of Droct. He was amazed at how sensitive his sense of touch had seemed to get in these last dozen day cycles, since he'd had to go much longer without lenses than they had expected. But one couldn't predict that shipments would have to be diverted because of Galactic storms, so Bee didn't feel any anger about the delay. It had been unavoidable.

Yes, predictably, Droct had apologized profusely, when it turned out that the shipment would take much longer than normal. But it wasn't his fault, and there wasn't much he could do about the whole thing. So Bee had just had to wait longer. And while he waited, he adjusted to sightlessness by developing his sense of touch and direction better.

Now, he could freely move about Droct's small shack, for the layout was clear in his mind. He could even go over to T'ran's shack, for he knew the direction and number of steps it took.

As he thought, he unconsciously rubbed his fingertips lightly over Droct's uncovered face. He could feel the uneven surface of the living metal, as if the mech had some type of terrible scarring. Perhaps this was why the mech only took off his mask when he was in his shack?

He felt Droct start to wake up, shivering slightly at Bee's familiar light touch. Droct and T'ran had gotten used to Bee's constant need to touch them; it was understandable considering his limited senses. So they'd actually encouraged him to explore his world through his touch.

But this morning Bee wanted more than to just touch his friend. He wanted to know if the mech felt the same way about Bee – that Bee was starting to feel towards him. But since he couldn't talk, there was only one way to ask Droct.

When he felt Droct move his arm and tell him good morning, Bee smiled and ran his free hand along his friend's side. Touching the mech's unmasked face, the sightless Autobot brought him closer. Their lips brushed lightly as he kissed him. He felt Droct's surprise, but then the mech pulled him tightly to him. When Bee released his lips, he felt Droct shaking with sobs. Frowning, Bee didn't understand the mech's reaction.

Droct ran his fingers along Bee's cheek, touching the tape that protected the Autobot's optical circuits until the new lenses came in. "You're the first mech to ever kiss me, Yellow;" Droct murmured. "But you're blind; you don't know how ugly I am. When you can see, you won't ever want to kiss me again." His sobbing voice was filled with his pain, his sorrow of what was his lot in life. All the mechs he had helped over the orbit cycles and not a single one had shown him any interest, not really even as a friend when they were fully repaired. It had hurt him deeply. And now as this blinded mech kissed him, he felt that same fear rise up in him. For he was certain that once Yellow regained his sight, he'd react the same as they all did.

Bee shook his head, smiling at his friend. He wanted the gentle mech to know he didn't care what he looked like. For when he kissed him, he had pictured the ugliest type of mech he'd ever met. He had imagined that Droct was an Insecticon, and he had still wanted to kiss him. Taking the mech's lips again, Bee taught him how to kiss.

Droct's engines warmed, the heat flowing through his armor and warming Bee's uninsulated circuits. Pressing against him, Bee cuddled, enjoying the warmth. He knew the physical signs of an aroused mech, and it was easy to tell that Droct was indeed aroused. But the mech made no moves towards him in that manner. In a sense, Bee was relieved that Droct allowed him to make all the advances. For even though he really thought he liked the mech, he still wasn't sure if he was ready for anything other than a kiss and a cuddle. He still couldn't quite shake the feeling of Decepticon circuits forced into his.

As he released Droct's lips, he could sense the mech smile as he squeezed Bee to his chassis. "Thanks Yellow. Do you really not care that I'm ugly?" he whispered. His voice had a pleading edge to it; Like he'd always wished for someone, anyone, to look past his appearance.

Bee smiled, snuggling tighter to his friend. Shaking his head, he answered Droct's question.

He felt the mech sigh. "It's a cold morning. You're circuits seem too cool." Droct's soft voice observed. Bee nodded, burying his head into the mech's armored chest. Droct was so warm, so safe. Bee relaxed against him, as the mech wrapped his arms gently around his tarp-covered frame.

Wasting his own energy, Droct revved his engines. To generate enough heat, to warm Bee back up to a good operating temperature. Bee sank into his embrace, thankful that the mech didn't demand anything more than companionship.

---

"He looks bad," Prowl noted with sadness in his voice.

Optimus nodded as he sat down with a heavy thud. Leaning forward, he folded his hands on the rail and set his chin on top of them. Shaking his head slightly, he stared down into the med bay from the observation balcony. He couldn't believe that wreck was his old friend. It didn't even look like the mech. Feeling a hand on his shoulder armor, he glanced up.

Prowl sat down next to him, his normally cool optics burning with intense emotion. "In his emotional state, I don't know how he'll take it," he sighed sadly.

Prime nodded, that was what he was afraid of as well. First the mech blamed himself for Bumblebee's capture, and now he'd have to deal with the memory echoes that would surely come from this extreme assault. He had already been near the breaking point. And this may have pushed him over the edge.

But Prowl was thinking of something. Something that made sense to the pragmatic mech… "Perhaps we should assign him the same recovery room as Inferno?" he offered.

His optics widened a bit in surprise at the suggestion, but then Optimus recognized the reasoning behind that idea. Inferno had almost been off lined in another one of the Decepticon frontal assaults. But that alone wouldn't bother the strong mech. What was bothering him, was that his young partner had been lost in the fighting. And just like Ironhide had, Inferno was blaming himself.

Yes, Prowl's idea made more and more sense as Prime thought about it. Perhaps the two mechs that were so broken inside, could help each other recover? Their work ethics and base personalities were also very compatible, so perhaps they'd become more than just friends. "Yes, I think that's a very good idea," he said.

They continued to silently watch the frantic medics as they tried to piece the shattered mech back together. His spark swirled in a strange blue glow within the exposed spark chamber of his chest. It looked like a frightened animal as it reacted to the medics' touch. Like it wanted nothing more than to escape into oblivion. To join that yellow mech's spark whom it thought was there.

In another room in the vast medical complex, another mech lay. His blue optics stared up at the ceiling in total despair. He had failed. Failed miserably… And now a bright young mech had been lost forever. No mech could've survived that explosion… And Inferno hadn't warned him. Had just assumed his young partner would notice it. But Cliffjumper hadn't noticed those steaming vents poking their small noses out of the ground. Hadn't realized that it meant that he was standing over a power substation! Hadn't seen the danger that was so obvious to the more experienced mechs…

Again and again, the sound of Seeker engines filled Inferno's meta with dread. The memory echo took over again, forcing him to relive his failure yet another time. The Seekers coming… He looked across the battle field.. Saw the vents next to Cliffjumper's feet… Taking a round of laser fire, Inferno twisted… Reaching towards the small mech… Yelling at him to run.. The missiles falling towards the red mech… In agonizing slow motion he seemed to turn.. But it was too late.. He disappeared as the ground beneath him heaved up in a yellow ball of searing fire and twisted metal.

Screaming, Inferno shook his head from side-to-side, straining against the restraints. Crying Cliffjumper's name over-and-over… Finally, the memory echo faded. Collapsing in a trembling, sobbing mass of distraught metal, Inferno could do nothing but cry…

---

Please review..

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	9. To See Again

**To See Again – 9**

Riding in Droct's bed, Bee felt exhausted. They had spent the entire day-cycle scavenging, and he was just plain beat. The trailer was full, and Droct was happy. He'd been excitedly telling and describing to Bee all of the various alloys they had run across that day. Going into great detail about why these were more valuable and what they'd eventually be used to make.

Bee had just grinned, not understanding everything that the garbage mech was telling him – but pleased to no end that his friend seemed to be almost as smart as Beachcomber. Well, at least about metals, that is.

Bee's feet touched the packed trash that made up the ground as he leaped agilely from his friend's bed when he stopped. Listening for the tale-tail sound of the breeze rattling the rusted sides of his home, he smiled and turned to face it. He now knew his way merely by sound, touch and smell. As Droct transformed, he waved his hand as he made his way to the shack that they shared. The hard berth was beckoning his tired meta and frame.

"Hey, Yellow! It looks like your lenses finally came in!" Droct exclaimed from behind him. His voice was so full of excitement that Bee could envision the very gleam in his optics.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Bee found his exhaustion lifting like a fog burning off in the sun. Turning to his friend, he absolutely beamed in happiness – for he would see today! He walked back up to where he'd heard him, his footsteps now full of bounce.

Giving him a big hug, the garbage mech twirled him round in the air. He set him down and with a final pat and a shove in the right direction, Droct told him to go and lay down on the bunk, while he went to fetch T'ran. Her fingers were more skilled at repairing things like this.

With the renewed bounce to his step, Bee made his way to the bunk and lay down. He had a hard time not fidgeting while he waited for T'ran to get there. He couldn't help but drum his fingers on the metal of the old berth while he waited his idle set a little too high now. It seemed like an eternity that the excited mech waited. And his meta drifted back to his old friends..

He wondered how they were all doing now. Did they miss him? Were they still searching for him – or had they given him up for dead? He sighed as he forced his thoughts from those – to how they would act when he stepped off that shuttle. All repaired and ready to get back on duty! He wondered how many times he'd have to get Ironhide to kick Sunstreaker's aft before he'd just shutup about Droct and just leave him alone. 'Cus Bee didn't care WHAT Droct looked like! He loved him.

Grinding his dental plates together even harder, Bee realized today was the day cycle! The day cycle that he'd finally get to see the mech he loved! His chassis hummed slightly with his growing anticipation….

Hearing her familiar footsteps, he clapped in happiness as he heard the sound of the door creaking open. "It seems our friend Yellow, is a little excited," Her voice observed, the tone filled with enjoyment at his reaction.

Nodding, Bee's smile spread from audio-to-audio. He sat up, facing where her voice had come from. Reaching up, he began to tug on the tape that had been protecting his optic circuits for so long. True, he had appreciated the protection – but he was THRILLED to get the fraggin' mess off his face plate!

"Well, come here and sit in this chair. There's better light by the door," she told him. He heard her patting the rickety chair with her hand.

Jumping up, Bee darted towards her voice, stumbling over the chair a little. He felt her hand grab him, stabilizing him as he straightened back up. "Oh, calm down Yellow," she chuckled as she grabbed his tarp-covered shoulders and steered his aft to the chair.

Sitting down, Bumblebee felt T'ran's gentle fingers probing his optic sensors. She was checking to make sure that they were undamaged, before installing the new lenses. Bee was very excited, he could barely keep himself still as she carefully put his new lenses in. He gripped the sides of the lopsided chair, squeezing his digits as he tried to keep his excitement in check. His dental plates ground together with his effort.

Suddenly, he could see! Fully activating his optics, Bee looked around the shack he'd been sharing with Droct. It was truly, the most pathetic dwelling he'd ever been in. The rust so thick on the walls, that he could see the sky through them. The support beams were a motley collection of various types of scrap metal, held together with rusted wire. The floor so covered in dirt and dust; that swirls of it filled the air with every step.

He looked up into T'ran's face. Her gentle blue optics looking at him with satisfaction as she knew that the new lenses were installed properly. She held up two fingers, Bee held up two fingers. She held up four, he held up four. Smiles crossed both of their faces – for Bee could now see and focus. She then moved her fingers back-and-forth watching him as he tracked them with his new optics. "Touch my fingers," she ordered.

Bee grinned as he didn't even miss her fingers. She made him do this several times, her hand held at different distances from him. He knew she was checking his ability to focus and decipher depth perceptions. And his smile got bigger and bigger as he passed each test with flying colors!

Turning his head towards where he remembered Droct's voice coming from, he saw his friend for the first time. The mech had his head down, shyly looking up at Bee. The fear that Bee would find him physically repulsive was in his optics.

Droct had been truthful, when he had told Bee that he was ugly, for the Insecticons didn't hold a candle to his grotesqueness. He was a collection of completely mismatched parts thrown together. His back humped strangely, one shoulder set much higher than the other. His arms and legs did not match each other in length, type or even color. His build so deformed that it was hard to even see how he transformed. Yes, he was indeed so ugly that Bee completely understood why no one had ever wanted to kiss him.

The only part about the mech that was attractive, were his gentle blue optics. Forcing himself to concentrate on those, Bee stood and walked over to the mech. He put his biggest smile on his face, as he unlatched the bashful mech's face mask and took it off. Even Droct's hidden face was hideous, with terrible scars from being burned. But Bee had expected this, for he had felt these scars under his fingertips. So Bee ignored this, concentrating on those wonderful warm optics as he kissed the mech.

T'ran's mouth fell open in total shock, just as Droct's optics also filled with wonder. They had both expected Bee to react the same way as all of Droct's former 'projects' had, with mild repulsion. But Yellow hadn't, Yellow had actually learned to look beyond the physical..

He had seen the beauty that lay within the hideous garbage mech.

----

Ironhide slowly reactivated. His audios picked up the sounds of monitoring devices. Most likely hooked to him, he thought in disgust. He hated to be damaged. Hated to be laid-up and unable to perform his duties! Especially now that he had retribution to heap upon the Decepticreep bastards! Even before his optics came online, he tried to reach over and rip the freagin' monitoring connections from his open chest cavity…. That's when he realized to his dismay, that he had restraints on.

"Why, of all the freagin' rust-pickin' cockimany ideas – Ratchet strapped my aft down! I am going to so give him a mouthful of liquid nitrogen next time I see him!" Ironhide grumbled. His blue optics lit up at that time, and he scanned the recovery room.

"Pointless to threaten him. You're stuck here – just like I am," a sad sounding voice told him.

Ironhide turned his head, realizing then that he wasn't alone. Another red painted Autobot was strapped down to the berth next to him. The mech stared up at the ceiling; his optics didn't even seemed to be focused on anything. Narrowing his optics, Ironhide swore he'd met the guy before. He searched through his memory banks. It took a few moments, but he remembered the incident now.

The mech's name was Inferno. Ironhide had seen him on the scene when a huge energon storage facility had blown sky high. The mech had amazed him with his fearlessness. Driving blindly over-and-over again into the searing heat with no thought of his own safety. If he remembered right – the mech had been heralded a hero for his bravery.. And after they'd patched his aft together, he'd refused the medal and simply went back to work. Simply saying 'it's my job'.

So why was the brave mech now here? Strapped down on a berth just like Ironhide was? Ironhide knew damned well why HE was strapped down. He had been acting out-of-character for the last cycle. His grief had clouded his judgment for a while. He cringed as he wondered how in the heck he was going to get Prowl to forgive his aft for that little spat.. He shook his head, deciding that he'd just have to face that problem when he faced it. No use to go worrying about it now. He just had to find a way to convince Ratchet that he was back to normal – that's all.

Again, he glanced over at Inferno. The mech was just silently staring off into nothingness. His face plate a mask of despair. What was up with him? And why were they both strapped down? Heck, Ratchet could've just locked them in their room. That would've been sufficient. "Is Ratchet so ticked at us – that he strapped us down?" Ironhide asked the silent mech.

Inferno didn't even bother to move his optics. "Suicide watch," he softly replied.

Ironhide snorted. "You've got to be pullin' my leg! Ratchet actually THINKS I'd off-line myself?!? The freagin' slagger! Ya maybe I would while I take out a whole ship of those Decepticreeps!!!" He strained against his restraints. He just couldn't believe they'd think he'd be THAT stupid!!!

"I would," the grief-stricken mech whispered next to him. Tears were now streaming down his face plate. He'd failed….

That soft spoken comment caused Ironhide to slam his dental plates together with a clang that echoed through the small room. He looked over at Inferno in total aghast. Was the mech being serious?!? Would he actually off line himself? But the expression of total despair on those strong features told him that Inferno was being brutally honest. "Why?" Ironhide asked in a soft voice.

"Because I failed… I failed to warn him.. To protect him.. He was my charge.. My duty.." Inferno sobbed. His entire chassis shook as his grief overcame him. The memory echoes flooded back then, and he relived the entire sequence again.

Ironhide struggled in his restraints. The poor mech needed someone to break through to him. To show him there were things left to live for! He didn't need to be tied down and left to rot alone in his grief! With a growl, he felt them loosen, and then one snapped free from an arm. Reaching over, he ripped the cables out of his chest and released the straps that held the rest of him down. Leaping up from his berth, he went over and ripped the straps off of Inferno.

Circling the sobbing mech with his arms, he scooted his aft up on Inferno's berth and rocked him gently. He rubbed his red armored back as he told him over-and-over again that he understood… That they'd get through this together.

----

Ratchet smiled in satisfaction as he watched the two mechs on the monitor. A hand pressed down on his shoulder armor. "Did it work?" Wheeljack's voice asked.

"You were right, I think this'll help them both," the medic said. He reached up with his hand, gently rubbing the fingers of his bond mate. Prowl's idea had seemed silly - To put two suicidal mechs together and expect them to help each other work through their depression. And Wheeljack's idea of making sure that Ironhide COULD break his restraints had been borderline retarded. But the inventor had been certain that if Ironhide could care about someone besides himself. And fight to get to them. That it would show that his meta wasn't shattered.

And apparently, he'd been right…

Ratchet leaned back against his mate. A strange happiness coming over his meta. He truly hated it when he couldn't repair a mech back to one hundred percent. But while he could repair their chassis – he couldn't repair their emotions. But a ray of hope had been found. A possibility that two broken mechs could actually help put each other back together.

"Ironhide hasn't tried the door yet, has he?" Wheeljack asked.

"Nope, and with his weapon systems disabled – he isn't going anywhere," the white mech replied.

Wheeljack snickered. "You know he's gonna try and kick your aft over this – don't you?"

Ratchet smiled at the tough red mech holding the sobbing fire engine. "You know, if he gets his old spirit back and actually WANTS to kick my aft – I might let him."

"Yep, the old Ironhide we all know and love would definitely be back then, wouldn't he?" The masked mech started to knead Ratchet's shoulder plates.

"Yes… Yes he would…" Ratchet said, hope in his voice.

---

Please review..


	10. Team Work

**Team work**

Bumblebee grinned as he carried the recyclable he had found, and handed it to Droct to stack in the trailer. His friend nodded happily as he accepted the rusted steel. Bee turned and continued his search, still being very careful as his circuits were only protected by the tarps wrapped around him.

Now that he could see, Droct had begun to teach him how to differentiate between the more valuable types of alloys and those that they should just leave. Even under all the rust and corrosion, the garbage mech seemed to have an optic for metals. T'ran often joked that it was her brother's knowledge of the recyclables, which helped them earn more funds than the average garbage mech. Granted even those funds were pretty pathetic.

T'ran had been right. With his optics functioning, Bee was helping them to rapidly earn the funds to continue fixing him up. He was a cheerful and eager helper. Not seemingly bothered in the least by the terrible conditions in which they lived.

"Hey Yellow, I found something over here. But I need help pulling it out;" T'ran called.

Almost running, Bee joined her and helped to pull out the twisted steel garter. Together, they carried it to the trailer, Droct helping them to load it.

"Well, it's full. Gotto hand it to you Yellow – you sure are quick at finding the more valuable recyclables!" Droct said, gently squeezing Bee's shoulder.

Bee smiled and nodded at his friend. Climbing in Droct's bed as the mech transformed and hitched up to the loaded trailer. Settling himself for the ride, the Autobot knew they could now afford to buy his new protective armor.

**A New Look**

Bumblebee stood still as Droct cut the tarp sections off of him. Several boxes sat in the corner, boxes which contained the new protective armor for Bee. Standing in front of his friend, now totally naked – Bee pulled him into his arms and took his lips.

Gently, Droct rubbed his fingers on Bee's exposed circuits, not wanting to hurt his friend. Even that light touch, caused sensations to fly through the Autobot's nets, and Bee shuddered against his friend.

Pulling back, Bee nodded towards the bunk, a smile crossing his face. Droct looked at him bashfully. "I've never…" he stammered.

Bee's smile widened. He knew that Droct was a virgin, and that made him even more attached to the mech. For the first time, he'd actually have a mech that was all his. Gently, he pushed the mech towards the bunk.

Laying Droct down on his back, Bee lay on top of him. "I know you were raped pretty bad Yellow, I don't want to hurt you;" Droct said softly as he gently touched Bee's naked circuits. His optics showed his eagerness, his excitement at having a mech actually want to be with him in this fashion.

Bee smiled and shook his head, wanting Droct to know that he wouldn't be hurt. Taking his lips, he slipped his glossa into his friend's warm mouth. Exploring… Enjoying the metallic flavor of Droct… He suckled the mech's glossa lightly, as his fingers slipped under Droct's armor at his shoulder. Caressing the servos underneath…

Droct bucked underneath him, the pleasure sensations racing through his nets. Even with Bumblebee commanding his mouth, he moaned in total ecstasy. This gorgeous mech wanted him! Wanted HIM! He almost overloaded right then and there. He'd never in a million cycles thought he'd find a mech who even wanted to kiss him, much less bond with him.. And one so gorgeous – no way! But he was living a fantasy, right here and now.. The yellow mech's fingers sliding under his armor, rubbing the sensitive nets beneath.. Droct's engines revved.. His cooling fans clicked on as his core temperature soared..

Forcing himself to calm down slightly, Droct reminded himself of what Yellow had gone through. He didn't want to scare his friend by being too demanding.. Try to go too fast in his excitement of the first bonding. Hesitantly, he slipped his fingers over Bee's naked circuits. Almost asking permission from the mech to touch him.. To try and give him some kind of pleasure as he was giving him..

As the mech hesitantly explored his exposed circuits, Bee opened some of Droct's access panels and ran his fingers over the sensory arrays he'd exposed. The mech moaned beneath him, shivering in ecstasy. Taking his lips again, Bee continued to explore his arrays, his knowledgeable touch bringing the inexperienced mech just to the brink of sensory overload.

Reaching down, Bee unlatched the shuddering mech's codpiece. Pressing his hips against Droct's, he thrust their exposed circuits together. Extending his cables within the trembling mech, he released Droct's lips and nodded to him. It was ok for Droct to do the same..

"You really… want.. me.. to?" Droct asked in between gasps. It was more than enough that Yellow had entered him. He'd be happy if that was the finality. But was Yellow wanting him to extend.. To connect to him? He felt his spark jump in eagerness.. To truly integrate systems with his friend.. To experience it all..

Bee nodded as he reached down with a hand and slipped his fingers inside Droct, teasing out the mech's bonding cables.. Guiding them to link up within him… He shivered a bit as he felt them slide inside. Sliding over his over bonding circuits… Causing him to shiver as impulses raced through his networks. His meta threatened to bring a memory echo into his working memory.. The sickening sensation of con circuits moving over his.. He fought the dark feelings down.. Staring down at Droct's face.. He concentrated with all his might on his friend's face.. It was Droct.. He was in total control of the situation.. It was Bee that wanted this. It was him that initiated.. He wasn't being raped. He was with the one he knew he loved.. He balled up his hands without realizing it. His internal struggle so great that his hydraulic pressure skyrocketed… His battle processor readying itself for action… But he forced himself to remain still. To allow Droct to enter him, for he had told the mech to do so.

Even in the middle of his fantasy, Droct could sense something was wrong with Yellow. Opening his optics, he looked at his friend's face. He could see the conflicting emotions flying across the yellow mech's face. A sickening sensation flooded over him, removing any trace of pleasure he had been feeling. Reaching up, he stroked the side of Yellow's helm. "Are you ok Yellow… I.. I don't want to scare you.. I'll –" he whispered as he began to retract his cables.

Bee shook his head violently, his optics full of torment as he looking pleadingly at his friend. He didn't want what the cons had done to him to control his life. His lip trembled as he felt Droct retracting his cables. Sliding his fingers down around them, he refused to let him fully retract.. Fully exit him. Shaking his head, he silently begged his friend to continue. He wanted to bond… So desperately.. Erase the echoes.. Love..

Droct's optics widened as Yellow locked his fingers around his bonding cables, refusing to let him retract. The mech's blue optics bore into his, begging him to fully extend again.. To connect.. To bond.. Even as Yellow's face showed his fear at doing so. "It's those memories coming back Yellow… Isn't it?" he asked softly as he kissed Yellow's trembling lips. But he didn't extend his cables fully, he lay motionless.. Waiting for his friend to calm down.. Yes, he desperately wanted to bond with his entire spark – but he didn't want to hurt Yellow.. He'd never hurt his best friend..

Bee nodded to Droct's question, his optics filling with tears. His gentle friend could read his meta so easily.. He knew what was going on within him. But Bee didn't want the cons to still control him.. He wanted to bond. Forcing himself to rock his hips slightly, he moved his bonding cables within Droct. Concentrating on the pleasurable sensations the motion caused. Concentrating on the fact it was Droct beneath him. Repulsive, ugly, sweet and gentle Droct.. The mech he now knew he loved..

He scanned the yellow mech's face even as he arched in pleasure from the sensations Yellow was causing. The cables sliding over cables… Electrical impulses flying through his nets.. "We'll do it.. just like when.. I cleaned you up…" he gasped in between moans, "go as far as you… want.. then stop .. for a second.. till you're.. ready.." he finished as he threw his head back and arched his hips up against Yellow's. He didn't mind being patient. He didn't mind letting Yellow take the lead. Primus, he'd do this all night cycle if it took Yellow that long.

Yellow slowly rocked his hips, enjoying the sensation. His optics cleared as the echo disappeared. Droct was so right; he didn't have to bond right away. He could take his time. Keep his memory echoes at bay. He tugged slightly on Droct's cables, nodding at the same time. Arching as he felt them extend again… Entering him.. Exploring him from the inside.. But they didn't link. Droct – beautiful sweet Droct – was going to wait until Bee connected to HIM, before he connected.

Tears flowed as Bee took Droct's lips. A feeling of his fears releasing their grip on his spark washed over him. The garbage mech was so wonderful in his submissive gentleness. His willingness to do whatever it took to make Bee whole again. Gently, Bee invaded his mouth with his glossa. Dancing with Droct's in time with his slightly rocking hips. He felt lubricant flow around his bonding cables as Droct's systems detected the heat buildup from the friction of their cables moving against each other. At the same time, his own systems released lubricant. He shuddered as the sensations of pure pleasure increased.. The warm fluid coating his cables.. Coating Droct's cables… The sensation of penetrating and being penetrated combining in a blissful rainbow of ecstasy.

Finally releasing Droct's lips, he smiled as the inexperienced mech moaned in absolute abandon. Droct gripped the sides of the berth tightly, his hydraulic pressure skyrocketing as he forced himself not to connect until Yellow did. Yellow's fingers slid inside his broken windshield, caressing his steering wheel even as the mech continued to rock his hips.. Cables sliding in and out.. Warm lubrication spreading over them.. The wonderful sensation of both penetration and penetrating at the same time.. Arching up, Droct spread his legs wider.. He wanted Yellow deeper.. Wanted to go deeper within Yellow…

Biting his lip to keep his meta focused on the here-and-now, Bee hesitantly linked within him. He wanted to feel Droct's spark.. Droct's energy.. There would be no fire.. No pain. With tears in his optics, he nodded to Droct to link within him as well.

Trembling in pure joy as he felt Yellow link, Droct pulled his fingers from their tight grip on the berth. Surrounding his friend's hips with them, he pulled Yellow's hips even tighter to his. Their cables going deeper within each other… "You sure?" he gasped breathlessly, his intakes struggling to get enough air into his engine to keep it from overheating.

Bee nodded, spreading his own legs a bit, his optics pleading with Droct to remove those memories of rape.. With new memories made of pleasure… He felt Droct link within him.. His power slowly flowing through their links just as Bee slowly released his.

His spark flooded into Droct, the mech's spark fluttering against his. Softly, gently; Bee let his spark caress Droct from within. He filled the lonely mech with his overwhelming love, just as Droct's filled him with the soft tenderness of understanding… Washing away some of those terrible echoes…

With a final shudder, the two small mechs overloaded and shutdown.

-----

Slowly, the alarms went off one-by-one within Bee's head as each system rebooted. Activating his optics, he found himself looking into the dazed optics of his friend. Snuggling, Bee pressed his naked body tighter down into the gentle embrace of the garbage mech. Neither one really wanted to disconnect from their circuit integration.

Droct ran his hands gently across the bare back of the mech lying on top of him. "Thank you Yellow. I don't know why you seem to like me so much, but thanks. I really like you too," he whispered. He thought he was falling in love with the silent yellow-helmed mech. The mech who could say so much with just his optics… But a part of him still feared.. Feared that he was getting too attached… That maybe T'ran was right and he'd be left again when this mech was fully repaired. But he swallowed his fear back. Knowing that at least he'd felt some love for once. And even if the mech did eventually leave him, he'd have these wonderful memories in his meta. So he promised himself.. That he'd enjoy ever moment together as if it was their last..

Bee smiled, trying to let his love show through his optics. He pointed at Droct's chest plate, wanting the mech to know that he liked his very soul. Droct smiled at him, his heavily scarred face brightening with his emotions toward Bee.

Reluctantly, Bee peeled himself off of his good friend. With his biggest grin, he nodded towards the unopened boxes.

"So, you want to get your armor on now?" Droct asked; his optics filled with humor.

Bee nodded as he went over to the boxes and ripped them open. His brilliant blue optics gleamed with excitement as he pulled each piece out and looked them over. Droct helped him pile them neatly on the bunk as they organized them.

A little later, Bee stood still while Droct carefully put his new protective armor on him. When they had made the order, they had sent a sketch that Bee had made of how he had used to look, so the manufacturer had made the armor to those specs. Standing in front of Droct, Bee now looked almost like himself. Except he was the gray color of primer, not yellow; but that would change. They'd decided to buy paint with the next load of recyclables.

Droct looked at his friend, his approval of the new protective armor written all over his face. He thought Yellow was quite attractive for a mech, especially now with his armor on. They still had to put the new matching horn onto Yellow's helm and paint him to match his old armor. But he was gorgeous, too gorgeous for an ugly garbage mech like him.

---

_**Note: **I did have a 'milder' version ready for FF. But since Tim in admin called this fic an 'M' because of chapter one. Well, why not put my 'M' chapter in here? By the way, I'm an unashamed review whore. Good, bad or indifferent - I like to read them in my inbox!_

_-----_

Please review..


	11. Tunnels of Garbage

**Tunnels of Garbage**

Another of a seeming endless string of day cycles passed spent wandering in the dump; yet, Bee felt a lightness in his step. He wished he could whistle while he scavenged, for this sure felt like a good time to whistle! A cheerful smile passed over his face as he spotted something that looked like titanium sticking up from the garbage.

Just knowing how pleased Droct would be over that valuable recyclable, Bee trotted over to it. As he curled his fingers around it, the sounds of commotion could be heard from the far side of the dump.

T'ran looked up, her sharp audios catching what was happening. Terror filled her optics, as she ran towards Bee.

At first he was confused as to why all of the garbage mechs seemed so panicked. Then the ominous low rumble of banking jets filled his audios. Turning around in shock, Bee spotted the Decepticon Seeker squadron speeding towards the dump for a little 'target practice'.

Unbelievably, terror locked his feet to the ground! All he could think and feel were those Decepticon circuits being thrust into his. Over-and-over, an endless invasion of hot red sparks. He couldn't move, he couldn't escape! Those lips taking his, biting his, making him bleed. Hands within him, pulling, twisting his insides until he blacked out! The cackling voices, telling him he was weak, pathetic.

He felt arms around him. They were going to take him away! Take him back to their ship! He'd be nothing more than a naked playtoy again! In panic, he fought as hard as he could. Yelling filled his audios, but he couldn't understand .. they were taking him.. he had to fight! Had to get away!

Something solid hit his helm hard; blackness engulfed the terror of his nightmare come true…

--------

He felt himself being dragged. Well, more like being 'stuffed'. He was in some kind of tight space, barely able to move. Someone was pulling him with a rope around his chest, while someone else seemed to be pushing him. It was pitch black, and the confinement and the terror of what he knew must be coming – caused him to panic!

Kicking as hard as he could, the terrified little mech tried to break free. But the space was too tight, he couldn't turn around! He finally managed to wiggle his arms up in front of his head, and he desperately tugged at the unseen rope. It seemed to wrap tighter around him as he struggled, adding to the frenzied mech's fears. So he began to slap at whoever was pulling him, even as he kicked the one behind him.

He heard mechs cursing, and then the one that had been pulling him managed to kick him hard in the helm. He went limp in unconsciousness.

-----

The fog began to clear, but only blackness met his optics. He trembled in terror, not knowing where he was – but certain that the Decepticons had him again. Trying to move, he realized he was tied up.

Then he froze again in panic as he realized that he lay against a mech, and they were running their fingers along his armor. His whole chassis went tense in anticipation of pain, of forced bonding. But still those fingers merely rubbed his armor, as if their owner was contemplating how they wanted to torture him.

"Shhhh, Yellow, don't move." Droct's voice whispered in his audios.

Calming down his panic, the little mech slowly relaxed, the tremors of fear slowed. He realized that those were Droct's fingers on him; it was Droct's chassis pressing into him. Turning his head towards where he thought Droct's was, he gave a brief shrug. He hoped Droct understood that he was asking why he was tied up.

He felt those familiar lips against his, as Droct gave him a comforting kiss. Then Bee felt a finger over his lips, the signal for silence. Wiggling out from under him, the garbage mech slid next to him in the tight dark space. Bee felt his lips near his audios.

"I'm sorry you got so scared, Yellow, are you Ok now?" that soft voice asked.

Bee nodded, knowing his friend could feel it. Fingers moved along his chassis, and he felt the cables loosen. As soon as his arms were free, Bee wrapped them around the distorted form of his friend. Burying his face into the unseen mech's chest armor, sobs of relief overcame him. He felt Droct's strong arms surround him, pulling him even tighter against him.

"I'm sorry they scared you like that, sometimes they use us for target practice," Droct whispered in his audio. "We're deep in tunnels that go under the dump; we'll have to stay here for a while, until their ship leaves."

Relaxing, Bee knew he was safe from the Decepticons' optics. Even as the garbage trembled around him from the blasts that the Seekers were firing, he was safe. He'd rather die in the arms of his friend within this dump – than ever be captured by the cons again.

Droct felt him relax against him. "I'm sorry T'ran had to hit you in the head like that. You just went nuts, and we had to get you to shut down," he whispered.

Bee nodded, he didn't blame them for what they had had to do. He had freaked, the trauma of his captivity having torn something within him. He wondered if he could even call himself an Autobot now, as terrified as he was by the mere sight of a Seeker? What would his fellow Autobots say? What could he do now within their ranks?

Tears streamed down his face, wetting Droct's chest. "Shhh, you'll be ok Yellow," Droct whispered as he stroked Bee's back.

Shuffling movement could be heard coming towards them. Bee sensed another mech chassis near them. He tensed with fear.

"How's Yellow doing?" T'ran's whispered words could be heard from somewhere beyond his helm.

"He's still really freaked, but he's untied now," Droct whispered back.

"I've never seen a mech black out in terror like that, it ain't normal," she commented softly. Bee could hear the concern in her voice.

"I know, neither have I."

"Do you think they were the ones who did it to him?" T'ran whispered.

Listening, Bee nodded against Droct's chest. They'd done it! Those terrible, evil Decepticreeps.. His chassis began to shudder with his silent sobs.

"Primus you poor thing," Droct whispered as he tightened his arms protectively around Bee.

Bee felt other hands stroking his helm, and he realized that T'ran was also trying to comfort him as best she could. He could sense her optics filled with pity as she touched his helm gently.

Breems passed as they stayed silent in the cramped tunnels deep inside the dump. Slowly, the sounds of conflict faded into the distance. But still the garbage mechs all hid in the tunnels, terrified to come out until the spotters saw the con ship leave.

"It could be a long time down here, Yellow," T'ran's voice whispered.

Bee nodded; her fingers able to feel his understanding.

"Let's go deeper, to the larger tunnels," Droct whispered.

So with T'ran leading the way and Bee crawling between them, they headed through the pitch blackness.

It seemed like an hour that they crawled like moles, but then the tightness of the tunnel seemed to lessen. Bee crawled into T'ran's aft as she stopped; backing up a little, he knew there was a blush on his face. But then he felt her fingers on one of his horns, pulling him towards her – even as Droct pushed him lightly from behind.

"We could be here for days, so Droct and I usually go deep in here, cram ourselves against each other and try to pass the time in defrag." Her whispered words told him.

"You get between us, where you'll feel safe," Droct's voice told him from behind.

Feeling along blindly with his hands, Bee crawled up next to her. Lying on his side, he crammed his backside into her, trying to make room for Droct who was making his way along them. Soon, the three of them laid together with their arms over one another. Although Bee was crammed in between the two siblings, he'd have had it no other way. Since the press of their familiar chassis filled him with a sense of safety and security.

T'ran rubbed her fingers along his side, "So it's really as bad as they say it is – to be tortured by them?" she asked Bee softly.

Bee nodded, his chassis shuddering at the mere mention of the torture that he'd endured.

Droct pressed his chest tighter against Bee's, his gentle fingers wiping the unseen tears from the yellow mech's face. "I once told you that were a tough little mech for surviving whatever happened to you." Droct stopped as he kissed Bee's lips. "If it was those mechs you survived, you're beyond just tough. And you remember that!" he whispered. Bee felt Droct's hand stroke his helm.

But he wasn't strong, he was weak! He had panicked! Shaking his head, he disagreed with Droct's praise.

"Shhh, it's just fresh in your mind Yellow. The terror will fade one day," Droct said.

He felt T'ran nod, her helm rubbing against the back of his. "Droct's right, you'll get over it – with time."

He snuggled tighter between the two, praying that they were right. For he was no use as an Autobot if he froze in terror at the mere sight of a Seeker in flight!

Snuggled tightly together, the three of them deactivated as they waited patiently for the danger above them – to pass.

---

"Shhhhh, it wasn't your fault," Ironhide whispered. He tightened his arms around the distraught mech, rocking him slightly.

"But.. But I should've warned him.. Stopped him…" the fire engine sobbed. Energon tears streamed down his once-strong face… All he could see was the bright young spark extinguished in the flames..

"He wouldn't have listened. He raced into action no matter what anyone would say." Ironhide rubbed one of his ladder rungs, hopeful that it was one of those spots that every mech had somewhere on their frame. One of the spots that if stimulated, would help to calm a mech down…

"I should've pulled him out… Saved him.. But I failed… I failed.." Inferno gasped for air in between his sobbing. No one had bothered to listen to him much. They just told him to get over it. All he wanted was to die. To join his young charge whom he had failed..

Ironhide tried this tact for several breems. But the darned fire engine just wouldn't listen to reason. He was so fixated on his perceived failure that nothing else could enter his meta. The van thought as he held the mech. Thought about what it had taken for him to get over his self-guilt. For him to realize that it was Decepticreeps at fault…

"I failed… I fail – Nggssstttt!" Suddenly Inferno's self pity was interrupted as he found himself flying across the small room. He hit the wall hard, clattering into a heap on the floor. Pain signals and alarms went off through his systems. His battle processor trying to initiate defensive actions… "Wh – what'd you do that for?" he gasped as he slowly picked himself off the floor. His optics locked onto the suddenly stern façade of the mech who'd just been consoling him.

Ironhide leapt up from the table and stomped up to the taller mech. "Because someone needs to knock some sense into you! It's not your fault – It's the Decepticons fault!" He got in the fire engine's face plate as he said that. Challenging the mech to deny the truth in it…

"No it's not! I could've warned him!" the taller mech shot back. He fell back against the wall, trying to avoid the intensity in Ironhide's optics. His optics again filled with self-pity, and he began to sob again. "Akkkk! Mftttt!" He was now flying the other way. Sliding on his face plate and smashing into his berth.

"Wrong answer Inferno. Blame the RIGHT freagers – or I'm going to keep this up!" Ironhide said as he stomped back up to the mech. To say this was an example of 'tough love' was an understatement. But heck, HE had to be raped and almost off-lined to get knocked out of it.. So if it took some physical pain to straighten this mech's mental pain out – then so be it..

"They were just being how they always are. Cliffjumper was MY charge! My responsibility! Akkkkk! OOOOUUUUUCH!" Inferno ended up sliding on his tail pipes and crashing into Ironhide's berth. He shakily got up, unsure as to WHY this mech was being so hard headed about it. It wasn't like HE was the one who'd lost his charge!

"Yah, he was your charge. But he took it on himself to charge into that situation. You couldn't stop him!" Ironhide countered. He reached out to grab the mech again, but this time Inferno snarled and jerked away.

"I SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HIM!!" Inferno screamed. His angst now turned into anger as he jerked away from the van. WHY wouldn't the mech just leave him be?!? He punched at him. "Leave me the frag alone!"

"No," Ironhide retorted as he ducked. He countered with a hard right hook that connected solidly with the fire engine's abdominal armor. "I ain't leavin' you alone until you see the TRUTH!" He hit the mech again. The crunch of metal against metal filling the small room…

"Ugggg! What the hell?!? Are you slaggin' glitched or something?!?" Inferno snarled. His abdomen hurt like Primus, but he was no mech's punching bag! He swung at the smaller mech, clocking him with a left hook.

Ironhide shook it off; he'd been hit far harder on the battlefield. After all, Ironhide wasn't his original designation. He'd earned the nickname by how thick his hide was! "You better hit harder than that. I feel like I'm fighting a femme," he snorted. He pounded another quick round of hard punches on the mech's chest armor.

"A femme!?!" the fire engine grunted in total disbelief. "I've rescued hundreds of soldiers from battlefield wreckage. And you call me a femme!?!" He came at the smaller mech, fists swinging.

The van grinned, dropping to the ground he kicked out a leg. Easily tangling the larger mech's legs and bringing him down with a crash. Grabbing the fire engine's arm, he twisted it behind his back and forced his face plate against the ground. "I finally see some spirit in you! Do you think you're the only one who's lost a youngster they were training? Do you think no one else has been where you've been? Your charge merely died in front of your optics. He died quick." Ironhide's voice became low. A terrible sadness filling it… "I had to watch as the cons kidnapped my charge. I live with the knowledge that he died slowly and painfully," he growled. With a huff, he let go of the mech. Striding to his berth, he went and slammed his tail pipes down on it.

Inferno stood up on shaky legs. His optics met Ironhide's. "You.. I'm sorry.. I didn't.. Know.." he stammered awkwardly.

"Yah, no biggie," Ironhide said dismissively. But he stood again, getting right back in Inferno's face, he started poking his finger into his chest plate. "It ain't neither of our faults. It's the Decepticreeps that did it! That always do it! I'm goin' to honor Bumblebee's memory by kicking every one of those slagger's afts!" He suddenly softened up and offered the mech his hand. "But I need a partner to do that."

Inferno looked down at the offered hand, then up in the mech's blue optics. "But I'm no soldier. And I thought you already had a partner? That prick cop car?"

The van shifted a bit. "Well, I, uh, kind've, um, .. Well, let's just say he's probably not exactly in the mood to see me right now.."

The fire engine narrowed his optics. "Why?"

Now Ironhide bit on his lower lip. He really didn't want to admit what he'd done to Prowl, but Inferno did deserve to know – didn't he? "I got mad at him for telling me to just move on. So, well, I, uh…"

So he'd felt the same way that he had? Inferno relaxed a bit. Glad he'd found a mech that understood what he was going through. But just what had the mech done to his partner? "You what?"

"I tried to give him a mouthful of liquid nitrogen. But I missed," Ironhide admitted.

Inferno couldn't help it. He began to chuckle. Began to laugh for the first time in almost a cycle! He pictured the prick diving for cover. And to be honest, it was a beautiful picture. "You did that to Prowl!?!" he gasped in between chuckles.

"Yep. Well, I tried to. He's a quick little slagger when he wants to be," Ironhide drawled. But Inferno's laughter was catchy. And soon, he found himself falling into snickers as well. It felt so good to finally be able to laugh… Finally…

---

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	12. Return to the light

**Return to the Light**

Bee came out of defrag before the siblings. Snuggling tighter against the still form of Droct, he listened to the muffled conversations of the other garbage mechs that were still hiding within the network of tunnels. It seemed that this happened fairly regularly to them, but the garbage mechs seemed to blindly accept the fact that they were considered nothing more than worthless vermin by the other mech groups.

Tears again filled the half-primed mech's optics. Not only for the weakness within him, but for the unfairness of Droct's world. He felt partially to blame, for he was an Autobot, and even they turned a blind optic to the plight of the garbage mechs.

Shame flowed through him. Now he knew that he was the most pathetic of mechs. For Droct had nothing, had had no one – yet he was so strong that he continued on day-after-day in his personal quest to try and make life better for those less fortunate than himself. Yes, Droct was better than the best of the Autobots. He was a better warrior than Prime himself! Droct fought an enemy that no Autobot had truly faced – he fought hopelessness.

Running his fingers along the distorted armor plating of the sleeping garbage mech, Bee wondered if he could ever truly pay Droct back for all he had done. Even if he was able to talk Optimus into offering the garbage mech a position in the Autobot ranks, would Droct accept it? If he did, would the other Autobots ever realize that the ugly mech was truly better than any one of them?

Lost in his thoughts, Bee was slowly tracing circles on his friend's armor. His fingertips felt something wet. Coming swiftly back to reality, Bee wished it wasn't pitch black in these tunnels! For now he was forced to use his sense of touch to figure out why Droct's shoulder was wet.

Probing gently with his fingers, he felt fresh damage to Droct's armor. The garbage mech groaned softly as he re-activated in response to the pain stimulus. Bee felt Droct's other hand curl around his probing fingers and force them away.

"Now, now, don't be worrying 'bout me Yellow. I've had worse," his soft voice told Bee.

Shaking his head, Bee again reached towards the damaged section, wanting Droct to know that he was, indeed, worried.

"Shhh, I was just a little slow in getting underground, that's all. It's just surface damage. I'll be fine," Droct said as he grabbed Bee's fingers again.

Bee sagged sadly against the damaged mech. He knew why Droct had been slow to hide. It was because Bee had freaked out, and Droct wouldn't leave him out there! So it was all his fault that the mech had taken a hit.

"Now don't go blaming yourself Yellow. It's mine, I just didn't spot the Seekers soon enough."

Again the mech apologized for something that was totally not his fault! Bee wished he'd just quit doing that, because this time it was Bee's fault! Plain and simple!

Muffled shouts were heard coming down from the surface tunnels.

"Well, all's clear," Droct said. Stretching his undamaged arm over Bee, he tapped his sister's helm to get her to re-activate.

She moved against Bee's back as she re-activated. Feeling the little mech still pressed against her, she patted him comfortingly. "So you doing a little better Yellow?" she asked.

Bee nodded, but grabbed her hand that was patting him and directed it towards Droct's damaged shoulder. As his sister's fingers touched him, Droct tried to bat them away.

"I've already told Yellow that I'm fine," he said.

"Well, obviously he doesn't think so, and I agree with him. So when we get back home, you are going to sit still and let us look you over!" T'ran's voice was firm.

Bee grinned, because from the tone of her voice, she was quite used to dealing with Droct wanting to avoid being center of attention. Kind've reminded him of Ratchet and Ironhide back home.

Slowly they peeled themselves apart from each other, and began to carefully crawl through the cramped tunnels. Following T'ran blindly, Bee thought he could hear Droct trying to conceal his grunts of pain as he brought up the rear. Frowning, the little mech tapped T'ran to slow down.

"He's always like this. Freagin' stubborn when he gets hurt and never lets us spend the funds or time to repair him right!" T'ran whispered to Bee. "He's always broke because he's repairing you mechs. Nothing against you, Yellow," she sighed. "He just never thinks of himself, that's all. And it's frustrating!"

Bee nodded his agreement and patted her back. He could sense her smile as she understood what he meant.

They moved on as Droct finally caught up.

----

The tunnel slowly began to brighten as they neared the surface. Finally, the entrance to the tunnel came in sight! The three poked their heads above the surface of the dump, just as a few dozen other garbage mechs poked theirs up. Scanning warily around like a bunch of Prairie Dogs looking for Coyotes. Satisfied that the con shuttle had indeed left and thus, the coast was clear. The garbage mechs all flooding out of their holes and went back to their scavenging.

T'ran helped Droct out of the tunnel, and both she and Bee looked at each other in dismay. Droct had lied when he said it was just surface damage, for his entire right shoulder assembly had taken a direct hit. Now, his arm just dangled by a few linkages, completely useless.

"Slag it Droct, why the hell did you lie about your damage?" T'ran asked as she put her hands on her hips and glared at her brother.

He just shrugged his other shoulder, "It's nothing," he stated dismissively, and made like he was going to start working again, not even bothering to get repaired.

Bee crossed his arms, matching T'ran's glare at Droct, and frowned. Making sure that his agreement with the femme was obvious.

Droct looked from one to the other. "Not you too Yellow?"

Bee nodded. Grabbing Droct's good arm, he began to drag the reluctant mech towards their shack. He heard T'ran snickering as she followed them along. Turning his head to look at her, she gave him a wink and an approving smile. Bee's core lightened a little bit, for now he could at least start paying Droct back – by holding him down so that T'ran could repair him properly!

---

"So when ya'll gonna let us out of this fraggin slag-hole?" Ironhide drawled. He swung his legs over the side of his berth as he gave Ratchet an expectant look.

Ratchet leveled a steely glare at the red mech. He and Wheeljack had decided that the best way to do this was to convince their two patients that HEY had managed to sweet talk their way out of the psych unit. And for one, Ratchet was going to have some 'fun' and make Ironhide and Inferno beg really hard! "Who said we are?"

"But you can't leave us freagin' locked up forever!" Inferno exclaimed in dismay. He looked up at Ratchet with imploring optics.

The tough medic shrugged as he handed them their ration of energon. "Both of you are considered a possible danger to the troops. So just why in Cybertron would we want you running amuck?" he challenged.

Inferno sighed unhappily as he took the offered cube. "But I'm not!" he muttered. He glanced back up at the medic, tears filling his optics. "All I ever wanted to do was fight fires Ratchet – that's all! Can't they let me do that again?"

"Ratchet's just being hard on us, that's all. They don't really think we're dangerous," Ironhide said. He took a big sip of the energon, his optics boring into Ratchet. They'd trained together back at the academy. So surely Ratchet really wasn't being serious and all. They were old classmates – right?

Ratchet swelled up, put his hands on his hips and glared at Ironhide. "I might be able to convince them to let him leave – but you?" he snorted, " There's a certain Prowl that would be sure to show up at the medical review board and discuss his opinion of your fellow soldiers safety around you."

"Awwww, he'll come 'round. Was just a simple misunderstanding – that's all," Ironhide shrugged. But inside, he had to admit that he was a tad worried. After all, he had tried to go THROUGH the freager when they'd gotten into it. Maybe he should consider apologizing to the mech?

Rolling his optics, the medic rapped him on his helm with a wrench that Ironhide hadn't even spotted.

"Ouch! Did you have to go and whack me?!?" the red mech exclaimed as he tumbled off of his berth. He landed at Ratchet's peds with a loud clang. His first thought was to get up and start way-laying the medic for the sneak-whack, but common sense prevailed. He needed the medic's favorable opinion in order to get out of this freagin' psycho ward! So instead of paying him back, he grabbed his helm and rolled around the floor as if the whack had been ten times harder than it actually had been.

The act didn't fool Ratchet, but it sure did fool Inferno. The fire engine dropped his energon cube and slid off his berth, ending up kneeling next to the groaning and cussing Ironhide. He put his arms on his shoulder armor, trying to gauge the amount of damage done. But the mech's hands were in the way. So gauging it's severity by Ironhide's reaction, Inferno looked up at Ratchet. "You've damaged him! Aren't you going to fix it???" he demanded as he put his arms protectively around Ironhide.

Ratchet snorted, "Yea I'll fix it." With that, he whacked the red mech again. This time even harder, since he had a much better angle of attack!

"Why you little white-painted rust bucket, I'm gonna so-" Ironhide leapt up, his optics glaring at the medic.

Wheeljack cut him off. "You're gonna what? Suck his cable so that he'll be nice enough to recommend that you two get released?" The inventor gave the ticked off mech a smirk as he leaned against the closed door.

"Ya're such a slaggin' smart aft – why don't you do it? I've heard about you two in the wash bays," Ironhide shot back. He wasn't into mechs, everyone who knew him – knew that! And the Inventor was part of that list.

Wheeljack snickered, his optics bright with mischief. "Perhaps if you were in an apparent relationship, we could argue that you were finally showing some emotional stability." His optics went from Ironhide to Inferno and back, making it obvious that he meant for them to engage in that 'relationship'.

"You've got to be kidding! Why I never…" Ironhide got up with a huff, pushing Inferno away from him.

"Shut up Ironhide. Maybe he's got a point," the fire engine said as he cut him off.

Ratchet glanced back at his bond mate, wondering just where he was going with this. Did Wheeljack really think he'd get the two lonely mechs to hook up like that?

Wheeljack grinned behind his face mask and shrugged. "Both of you are notorious loners. Both of you got attached to young mechs you'd been training. Both of you went freagin' glitched when they off lined. Perhaps if it looked like you two were moving on – Prowl would be convinced to give you a second chance?"

So that's where he was going with it. Ratchet grinned to himself as he nodded. "Sure looked like you two were possibly interested in each other on that video tape we've got."

"Long as we happen to edit out that little aft-whooping part," Wheeljack agreed.

Ironhide and Inferno locked optics, both of them not really thrilled with the idea of masquerading around as a dating couple. But the alternative of being stuck in here for a rather extensive period – was far less appealing. "Well, uh, slag it," Ironhide grumbled. He shifted uncomfortably from one ped to the other.

Inferno looked equally as uncomfortable as he glanced from medics to Ironhide. "Yea, ditto on that," he mumbled.

Wheeljack grinned as he patted both of them on their shoulder plates. "Well, we'll be back at the end of our shift to collect you two then."

"What are you talkin' 'bout?" Ironhide demanded to know.

The white medic's optics gleamed in merriment. It was going to be so fun to force the stubborn mech to play this game! "For the double date," he explained.

"Do what?!?" The energon cube that Ironhide had just picked back up almost slipped from his hand again. He barely managed to catch it in time, juggling it for a moment as he did so.

Ratchet elbowed Wheeljack as he walked out the door. "Yep, you know we have to make several observations before we can write an accurate report concerning your growing relationship and attachment to each other," the inventor said with a snicker. "Oh, and by the way, any good juicy video we get will help prove your case."

The door slid closed behind him before the two stunned mechs could even think of a reply.

"Now what did we just get ourselves into?" Inferno asked as he sat down. Grabbing his cube up again, he stared down into the swirling glow as he tried to fully understand everything.

With a thud, Ironhide plopped himself back down onto his berth as well. He looked over at the taller mech sitting down across from him. "Yea, just what in the slag was that all about," he muttered as he took a big sip.

Inferno coughed a bit as he took a swig that was just a tad too much. Wiping the excess energon that was dripping down his chin, he shook his head slightly. "So we've got to get everyone to believe we're a couple – before the darned medics will give us a clean bill of health," he muttered.

"Yea, sure sounds like that. Of all the cockamaney ideas I've ever heard Wheeljack come up with!" Ironhide finished his sentence with a gigantic gulp of high-grade.

Nodding his agreement, Inferno took another swig. "Wished we could've talked them into leaving more high-grade," he mumbled.

"Why's that?" Ironhide swished his around, watching it swirl into a multicolored blend.

Chuckling, Inferno took another swig. "Because it would take at least three of these – before your rusty tail pipes would look good."

Almost spitting out the mouthful he had, Ironhide barely swallowed in time. "Do what? Heck, it'd take four before you'd even been passable," he shot back.

And so the conversation continued…..

-----

Wheeljack chuckled as he leaned back and watched the pair on the viewer. "I bet it'd only take one more for each one – and they'd breakdown and kiss," he snickered.

Circling his mate with his arms, Ratchet leaned over his shoulder. "I'll take your bet. I say three each."

With his mate nuzzling his thin skinned neck, Wheeljack giggled like a sparkling. "So what's the loser got to do?" he joked.

"Mmmmmm, whatever the winner wants to for a night," Ratchet purred as he continued to tease him.

That sure sounded like a wonderful bet. "Deal," he said as he snuggled into Ratchet's embrace…

----

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Please review…


	13. Reluctant patients

**Reluctant Patient**

"Sit still!" T'ran yelled at the fidgeting mech. Every time she got her fingers in there, her brother would shift in both discomfort and impatience. It was like this everytime! Every doggone time he'd gotten damaged! He was more interested in fixing his 'projects' than himself, which is one of the reasons he had turned into a piecemeal of mismatched, rusting, and unpainted parts over the cycles…

"But if we don't get out there soon, all of the valuable recyclables that the missiles turned up – will be gone!" Droct complained. They needed those recyclables! Needed them so that Yellow could be fixed properly! His damage could wait. He could still walk.. Still collect…

T'ran hit him upside his helm in disgust. "And if we don't get this at least half-way repaired, you'll get grime inside the few servos that are repairable. Then we'll have to spend twice as much to replace them!" That was IF they ever did get the chance to replace them. If she didn't get Droct fixed now – it probably wouldn't happen. He knew it – she knew it.

Bumblebee wanted to break out in laughter, for the two of them really DID remind him of when Ratchet had to repair Ironhide! A smile crossed his face as he remembered the last time. Optimus had ended up having to strap old Ironhide down to the exam table for Ratchet. And the language that had come out of the Weapons Specialist's vocal processors had been very – entertaining. To say the least! At least gentle Droct wasn't shouting expletives. His spark warmed at that thought. Even in pain, Droct's peaceful nature came out. He'd never hurt a soul, never even hurt their feelings.. He was perfection…

Fortunately for Bee, Droct was actually being far more reasonable about these 'forced repairs' than Ironhide would've been. When he realized that he was stuck allowing it, he had just glumly sat down and glared at both of them while T'ran worked. Droct was more worried about the prospect of losing out on funds by not being out there immediately after the bombs stirred up the dump's surface – than anything else. Bee understood this a little bit, for these garbage mechs already survived on little to nothing, and missing out on any recyclable might mean less of that poor-grade energon that barely kept them functioning. But, Droct had to be minimally repaired, and that was that! He stood there and watched his fidgeting friend as he was patched up, his smile widening with each muttered comment about her 'taking too long.'

"What are you smiling about? We're missing the recyclables!" Droct muttered when he looked up and saw the huge smile on Yellow's face plate.

Bee just shrugged, his shoulder plates shaking a bit in a silent giggle. The garbage mech reminded him so much of Ironhide at that moment. A toned-down Ironhide for sure – but Ironhide none-the-less. It felt almost like home. Almost like being back where he – they – truly belonged.

"He's laughing because you're being your standard cyber-aft! Quit fidgeting," T'ran replied for him. She rapped Droct on the top of his helm again.

His meta super-imposed a white medic over the femme, and Bee couldn't help himself anymore. His chassis shook in spasms of unvocalized laughter as he sank to the dusty ground.

Droct huffed a bit, and kicked Yellow – albeit very gently, since he couldn't bring himself to feel angry enough to ever hurt his friend. But this behavior was annoying, especially now that his sister was laughing in agreement with the mute mech. Biting back his retort, he clamped his jaw components hard together and looked away. He wasn't going to fuel their laughter any longer!

Slowly, the giggles left Bee and he climbed back to his peds. Giving T'ran a wink, he tried to give Droct a little peck on his face mask. But the miffed mech turned his face plate away, so all Bee got a kiss on was his helm.

"Ah, don't worry little Yellow; he gets miffed at me everytime. He'll get over it." T'ran smiled down at the top of her brother's helm. "Don't you, Droct?" she teased.

"If you weren't my sister….." he growled back. Well, tried to growl that is. Coming from Droct, it wasn't much of one. He tried to cross his arms in a huff, but since the one wasn't working yet, he only managed to make himself look even more hysterically like Ironhide.

Biting back his laughter this time, Bee patted him on his good shoulder and then went to the doorway. Standing 'guard' at the door; he began to contemplate on just how to go about convincing Droct to let the Autobots rebuild him. He knew Ratchet would likely grumble about the garbage mech's current condition, and this would most likely just serve to insult the poor mech and make him that much more resistant to allowing a rebuild. Since, then he'd really feel worth less than dirt even more so than he currently did. If that was even possible!

On the other hand, Wheeljack was a little more of a 'slick talker' when he needed to be. Bee knew that the inventor wouldn't say much about Droct's previous lack of proper maintenance; he'd more likely come up with a simple excuse to get the mech into the med bay. Then he'd talk him into 'new armor' or something. Probably by convincing Droct that it was part of his 'contract' with the Autobots. _Yes, Wheeljack would be the better of the medical officers to handle Droct. _Bee decided. He couldn't wait to watch the inventor with his hands inside Droct as he fixed his struts and bearings. Couldn't wait until he could repay Droct for everything he'd done for him!

Yes, once he got back to the Autobots, he'd just have to hope that he'd be able to convince Optimus to 'hire' Droct. But if he couldn't, he'd just enlist Bluestreak's help. Because that mech could talk anyone into anything when he wanted too! He'd slick talked his way out of trouble and into 'fun' missions everytime. Optimus would never admit it, but he had a weak spot that Bluestreak knew how to work. Yes, Droct WOULD get hired – one way or another!

Bee sighed, his shoulders drooping. His optics clouded over slightly as he considered his unexpected reaction to the sight of the Seekers. Yes, he knew his friends would take him back – but would he really be able to get over his fear of Seekers? T'ran kept telling him he would, and he really, really wanted to believe her – but he was terrified that she might be wrong. And he had no idea what his old friends would think if he just froze in a battle situation! Especially tough Ironhide – who'd trained him so hard. Trained him to be strong and fearless…

Shaking his head slightly, Bee tore himself from those thoughts. He couldn't change what had happened, all he could do was to try and move on from it. After all, hadn't he already proven to himself that he could move on from his fear of bonding? Maybe Ironhide would understand… Maybe Ironhide would take him under his door wing again? Teach him from scratch to be fearless again..

Looking over at his glum friend, Bee smiled. For that meek mech had helped him get over his fear of bonding. By just simply being himself! Not demanding anything, and offering everything he had. No, Bee didn't know if he'd ever want to bond with any other mech again. Why would he? Droct was perfect for him! He'd found his life mate here on this pathetically poor world. And he didn't care what any of the Autobots thought about Droct. He loved the mech who'd never fight. Loved the mech with every fiber optic cable in his sensory grids!

Glancing up, Droct noticed Yellow staring at him with a far away look in his brilliant blue optics. The sight of the first mech who'd ever really liked him, made the garbage mech's core warm with happiness. A dreamy smile made its way onto his scarred face. Finally relaxing under T'ran's hands, Droct decided that if Yellow wanted him to sit here and miss out on valuable recyclables – then he would. They'd just have to work even longer astrohours to make up for it – that's all…

T'ran felt her brother finally relax as she worked on his shoulder servos. She raised her optic ridges in surprise, for Droct had never been this 'reasonable' about missing out on recyclables so that he could get repaired. Glancing down at Droct's face plate, she noticed that he was staring at Yellow with a far away look in his optics. Following his gaze, she noticed that the little primered mech had the same exact look on his face.

Chuckling to herself, she bent her head back to the repairs. Obviously, these two were in love, and it was a darned good experience for her brother to finally have! She just hoped that it was truly true love. That the little Yellow mech wouldn't ever leave her lonely brother… That he'd live in the rusted shack forever…

---

**New Paint**

Transforming, the half-primered bug followed the rusted truck to the other side of the expansive dump. Bouncing up over the bumps, Bumblebee felt a sense of joy that he'd never felt before. For he actually had a mech he could call his own. A mech that would look at no other.. Of that, he was sure! Droct was all his – in all ways..

Sure, he was still stuck on this rock of a planet, living amongst the poorest of the poor. But that didn't matter. The little rusted shack was filled with love, and that's what really mattered. He'd not known the true meaning of functioning until now. It was not war.. Was not completing missions.. It was to find love! To find a partner to share your life withf!

His new paint was coming in on today's shuttle, so other than his missing Autobot insignias, he'd finally look just like he used to. Next week, they'd get the parts in to fix his vocals – and then his repairs would be totally complete. Then he could talk to Droct, tell him who he really was, and see if he could convince the garbage mech that it would be a good idea to leave this dump and start 'working' for the Autobots. His engines revved in excitement at the mere thought of returning to Autobot city after missions and seeing his friend there waiting for him! He imagined coming back to base. His mate standing there with open arms, his warm optics full of love… The berth warm and inviting as Droct buffed the dust from his tired chassis. Droct's voice telling him how proud he was.. How much he - …

Droct stopped suddenly, causing Bee to almost run into his aft. Shaking himself out of his little fantasy, Bee slammed on his brakes and wished he could apologize for his lack of attention. Transforming, the two mechs scanned the dump together, looking for scraps of metal that they collected and sold to the recyclers. Spotting a piece sticking up out of the trash, Bee trotted over to it, happily motioning to his friend while he tugged on it. With a smile in his optics, Droct joined him and helped dig the large piece out. As they worked together, Bee looked sideways at his friend, realizing that he no longer even thought of how Droct looked. The ghastly mech was beautiful in his optics.

Filling up Droct's bed, the two returned to the little shack that was home. In front of the door was the shipping box with the paint they had ordered. Transforming first, Bee strolled to the box and patted it with his hand. His intakes opened to help cool his excited engines as he grinned back at his friend in elation. Nodding happily to Droct, he hefted the heavy box to his shoulder and carried it inside.

By the time Droct entered, Bee had already stripped all of his armor off, and was kneeling naked by the bunk. Much of his primered armor lay out across it, he began to paint each section. Smiling behind his mask at his friend's happiness, Droct kneeled down next to him and offered to help.

-----

A few hours later, Droct and his friend entered T'ran's shack. Her optics widened in shock. "Wow Yellow! You really fit your nickname!" she exclaimed, running her fingers approvingly over his shiny yellow hood.

Bee got a smile from audio-to-audio, as he spun, showing off his new gleaming paint job to his two admirers. Admirers that loved him for who he was…

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**Meanwhile... Back on Cybertron...**

"I can't b'lieve I'm doin' this!" Ironhide mumbled under his breath. His engine rumbled with a disapproving rev.

"You and me both. But we got to," Inferno whispered back. He squeezed Ironhide's hand in agreement, still feeling slightly nauseated that he was even holding another mech's hand in this way.

"Don't they look so happy together? I knew it would work out!" Wheeljack exclaimed loudly from behind them, right as they passed a contingent of Autobot sharpshooters.

"Never expected it – but I'm glad I was wrong," Ratchet agreed in an unusually loud voice. He enjoyed seeing their two stubborn patients tense, the discomfort so obvious to his experienced optics. '/You might want to slide an arm around his waist. Be more convincing,/' he radioed to Ironhide, just as one of the sharpshooters turned a curious optic their way.

Ironhide kept a poker face, even as he cringed in total disgust inside. His sharp optics caught the interested looks that the soldiers turned in their direction. And he knew without a doubt, that damned youngster Bluestreak would run blabbing to Prowl about what he'd seen. Sliding closer to the taller Fire Engine, he did just what Ratchet had silently ordered him to do. Forcing a smile on his face plate, he boldly met Bluestreak's optics. "Hey youngster, ya finally graduated?" he drawled, putting a fake non-chalance in his tone.

But then he remembered something. Something that spread warmth through his networks… Prowl WAS into mechs! And he'd approached Ironhide once. At the time, Ironhide had just thought it was out of the tactician's desperation to escape the younger Jazz's attentions. But just possibly – Prowl had actually BEEN interested in him? A smirk crossed his face plate as he noticed a quick flash of shock pass over Bluestreak's face plate, quickly replaced by intense curiosity… Oh, he'd give anything to see the look on Prowl's face plate when the mech found out he was 'dating' another patient – who happened to also be a mech. He'd blown Prowl off back then by claiming not to be into mechs – which was actually the truth. But now, Prowl would be devastated to think Ironhide had actually been into mechs – just not HIM. Oh, the sweet taste of getting even. Getting even with the prick for throwing his aft into the psych ward!

"Oh, um, hey Ironhide. Um, who's your friend?" Bluestreak stammered. His shock was obvious, the slick talker NEVER stammered.

Ironhide grinned at him, and then fixed what he hoped was some kind of look that would be viewed as 'love-struck' onto Inferno. '/Just play 'long – and we won't have to play this act for long/' he comm'd to the Fire Engine, just as he pulled him tight to his chassis. Fixing suspiciously jealous optics onto the young sharpshooter, "Don't ya go optic-ballin' MY mech Inferno – or I'll have to provide Ratchet here with 'nother young mech to repair. Ya understand me?" he growled.

Bluestreak backed up and exchanged a surprised look with Silverstreak. Did the mech really think he'd go after a civilian fire fighter? And just when had Ironhide gotten into mechs anyways??? His reputation of not being into mechs was very well-known! Or had he just been using that for an excuse to avoid mechs he didn't find attractive?!? The gray mech's optics narrowed slightly as he considered that last idea. Oh, that had to be it!!! A smirk crossed his face plate then. "Ah, no problem Ironhide. You know I only like military bots," he purred. With a wink at the red van, he and his comrades continued on their way… Bluestreak was going to have soooooo much fun with this bit of gossip.. Soooo much fun!!!

As soon as the troops were out of sight, Ironhide removed his arm and stepped away from Inferno, dusting himself off as if he'd touched a mech with the cosmic rust. Inferno doing the same thing…

Wheeljack met Ratchet's optics, both medics not even bothering to contain their snickers at their patients' discomfort. "You two need to resume holding hands. We're going to the Back Yard Energon Shack tonight," he informed them.

The pair groaned as they cringed in disgust as their digits encircled each other's again. The medics HAD to take them to the most frequented bar on Cybertron!

"Little fraggers," Ironhide muttered in a barely audible voice.

"They'd better hope the hospital never catches fire, I might be hesitant to rescue their afts," Inferno mumbled.

The medics put their arms over each other's shoulder plates, a bounce in their stride. They were actually pranksters through-and-through, and this game they were playing with their two stubborn patients was becoming quite amusing!

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	14. Into the Mines

**Into the Mines**

"I didn't interrupt anything did I?" T'ran's asked as she nonchalantly marched into Droct's shack without even knocking. Her blue optics narrowed in humor as she noticed the rather embarrassed look on her brother's face. She'd never thought in a million cycles that she would 'catch' him in this type of awkwardness – and that simply made it all the more entertaining..

"Um, no.." he stammered as he and Bee separated. As the yellow mech slid off of him, Droct sat up and sheepishly rubbed his chin in embarrassment, while he grinned shyly at his friend. Droct just didn't really know how to react, since there'd never been the opportunity for her sister to have ever 'interrupted' him in anything before. Though he did actually like the fact that for once he was actually having this experience.. He'd never dare to admit that particular fact to anyone though.

Bee just grinned and nodded at T'ran. Not shy in the least. Heck, the Autobots were stuck living in such tight quarters that a mech just got used to stepping over certain pairings whom were 'off-shift' shall we say. So the yellow mech thought nothing of being 'interrupted'. Other than the fact that she should've knocked!

Cocking his head at her, he pointed at the door and made a motion like he was knocking.

T'ran's optics widened as she realized that she was being chastised by Bee. Then she broke out laughing. "Boy Yellow, you sure are a rather vocal mech – for one that can't vocalize!" She came over and patted him on his shoulder. "I'll knock next time, Ok?" She'd just make sure to knock WHILE she was barging in.

He nodded and grinned at her, still amazed at how easily the siblings had learned to understand his body language. Who needed a vocalizer around mechs like them anyway? Cuffing her lightly, he let her know that she had indeed 'interrupted'.

She just chuckled and cuffed him lightly in return. "Sorry, when M'ron asks if I can drag Droct to the mines – you don't keep him waiting," she explained.

"The mines?" Droct asked. His voice filled with excitement. He jumped to his feet, the dust from the floor swirling up in angry circles around him. Fumbling with the latches to his armor that Bee had unlatched earlier, he got everything back where it should be.

Yellow tapped him on the shoulder armor, causing the excited mech to stumble slightly. With a grin his silent friend tapped his exposed olfactory sensor.

"Slaggers!" Droct mumbled and searched for his mask. He couldn't BELIEVE that he'd almost forgotten the thing.

Bumblebee and T'ran both raised an optic ridge at the expletive. Their bemused smiles matched each other in intensity as they met optics. "You've sure got him side tracked," the femme snickered.

He just shrugged in reply. It was nice to know that he finally had that effect on a mech for once. Back in the Autobot ranks no one had noticed him much. A warm fuzzy feeling flooded over Bee's core as he watched his flustered friend dust off the face mask they'd discarded onto the dusty floor during their rather passionate night… This is what it truly felt like to be alive!

Giving Bee a mischievous grin, T'ran shook her head in mock exacerbation. Turning without another word she walked outside. The grin still widening mischievously inside her meta, because she'd indeed 'interrupted' the two. And it had been a glorious interruption indeed! She'd have to do it more often.

Not knowing what was going on, but understanding by Droct's reaction that it had to be something good, Bee swiftly relatched his own armor. Finishing before Droct, the yellow mech wandered over to the half-rusted through door and shoved it open. Balancing it a little as the lower hinge finally gave out with a pop. Looking at the door which was now hanging haphazardly, he gave a disgusted snort. Now Bee figured he'd have to somehow fix it when they got back from where ever they were headed. Reaching over, he grabbed the last roll of duct tape that they owned. Doing a quick repair that would've made Ratchet grimace in disgust – Bee nodded to himself in satisfaction as he set the tape back down. At least the door would 'hang' somewhat properly for a little while now.

Droct hurriedly put his facemask on, hiding his excited smile. Almost running, he grabbed Bee by the arm as he passed through the doorway. Not even noticing the broken hinge and shoddy repair job. He jogged after his sister. Avoiding the many holes in the dump's surface with an agility that Bee never would've expected; all while dragging a rather confused yellow mech along.

Bee had no idea why they were so excited about a 'mine', but this M'ron mech was the one that T'ran seemed to be dating, so he figured it was a good time to meet the mech. So as they all transformed to alt mode, he kept up as best he could over the rough surface.

Clouds of dust and loose debris filled the air behind them as the three small mechs drove off over the dump as fast as their wheels could carry them.

-----

Bouncing up over another mountain of refuse, Bee caught several feet of air as he came down on the other side. He cringed as a plastic bag caught his bumper, waving in the wind with a loud whooshing sound as he continued to try and keep up with the two garbage mechs. Wishing he could stop and get the bag off, the yellow mech was happy that Sunstreaker couldn't see him right now. Boy, the nicknames that he'd earn for this one! Bumblebee just chuckled to himself, for he found himself very homesick for those insults now-a-days.

Yes, he was finding himself more-and-more homesick with each passing cycle. Now he truly understood why Mirage seemed so preoccupied. The ache in his spark for the normalcy of Cybertron was becoming so great… He couldn't wait to be fully repaired. Couldn't wait to bring his new friend into HIS nice quarters! Visions of carrying Droct over the entrance way filled his meta with bliss as he drove along, drowning out his homesickness with the emotion of anticipation…

Flooring it to make it up yet another garbage mountain, Bee again sailed over the other side. Only this time, his tires felt hard pavement underneath them when he came down. Scanning around him, he realized that they had now left the dump and were heading down a road towards the metropolis. _Ouch!! _He silently groaned as he hit a rather deep pothole. His meta jerked back rather rudely into the reality of the here-and-now..

Darting from one side of the road to the other, Bee tried to avoid the numerous potholes as best he could - All the while trying to keep his two friends in sight. He was amazed at how fast they could actually go! Briefly he envisioned the twins racing them – and wondered in this pot-holed street if the twins would even stand a chance against the garbage mechs. Probably not, Sunstreaker would've stopped after hitting the first pot hole and sat there whining about a blown hydraulic or something by now.. A grin passed over his hidden face plate as he imagined the look on that particular mech's face plate..

Suddenly, the two siblings swerved to the right at a four-way – without even slowing down! Bee felt his weight shift a little too much for comfort on his outside tires as he tried to take the turn at the same velocity. As his weight shifted back to center, he felt his intakes relax a little. He wished he could yell to the two to PLEASE SLOW DOWN!! But he couldn't! So he was stuck trying to keep up. In a way, he felt like he was trying to keep up with Cliffjumper. That other young mech was such a wild runner!

They flew by the Recycler merchants that T'ran sold the metal scraps to. Bee wished he could stop a second and really look at the store fronts, but the dilapidated structures went by in a blur. All he could tell; was that there was a whole row of them, and each one had a different metal name over it. So he figured that each one dealt in a different metal alloy or something. Maybe T'ran would take him with her one day?

Continuing on, the three just skirted the very outskirts of the metropolis. And it seemed to be the seediest part of the city as well. Dangerous looking mechs walked the street sides. Their wary optics scanned for any conceivable threat – or victim - for that matter. Bee was kind've happy that they zoomed through this dangerous section fairly fast, for he'd hate to get caught, unarmed as he was, by any of those criminal mechs!

They left the outskirts behind them, the potholed road soon becoming a packed down churt road. Pieces of dust and gravel kicked up by his two friends; began to pelt Bee mercilessly. He backed off just slightly, trying to avoid getting any major dings to his new paint job. It wasn't that he'd suddenly become overly interested in his appearance or anything like that – they'd just spent so long in getting it done right he'd hate to mess it up so soon!

The barren landscape soon turned into one of mountains. The lonely rocky peaks rose up as if they were thin fingers trying to caress the very sky. The churt road became a twisting snake as it curled around the sheer rock faces of the mountains. Bee found himself huffing with effort as the six percent uphill grade taxed his strength. But still his friends zoomed on. Would they ever tire out? Would they ever slow down? He imagined what Optimus would say about it all. Surely he'd be quite impressed!

Finally, the siblings slammed to a stop and transformed in front of a large steel chain gate. T'ran calmly pushed a button to ask for admittance, not even warm from the dizzying drive up here. She was amazing in her endurance! Truly amazing!

With his intakes straining to cool his systems, Bee transformed and staggered slightly. Droct caught his arm and steadied him, giving him a concerned look. "I'm real sorry we had to push it so fast, but if we don't get here when they want us – we don't get paid," he explained. Putting his arm under Bee's shoulder, Droct took much of his weight, acting as if it was nothing. His own systems were almost as cool as T'ran's.

Starting to recover as his system's cooled down; Bee looked at his friend and shrugged dismissively. If it meant more funds to get here quick – who was he to argue? Though he did need to have his carburetor readjusted soon, that way he wouldn't be so taxed in the thin atmosphere when they decided to have an off-road type race again.

Droct squeezed his shoulder, "We'll go slower on the way home – I promise!" he whispered. Yellow was awfully hot right now. And everytime the mech gasped, he felt bad. But they had to get here fast, that's just how it was when dealing with miners. You worked on their schedule – not your own.

T'ran looked back at them as the gate opened. "And on our way home, maybe we'll have enough extra for some mid-grade!" she joked. Her optics brightened with the anticipation of some real energon. It was a treat that they very rarely could afford.

Bee could feel his core warm at the very thought of some mid-grade. Compared to the low-grade they'd been surviving on, mid-grade would be like the finest wine going down his throat. He gulped in the anticipation of the flavor. Granted, back with the Autobots, he'd have considered mid-grade horrible. But after living with the garbage mechs for so long, he had learned to appreciate many things in life that he'd previously just overlooked. A pang of homesickness returned…

A group of bulky mechs approached them. The setting star's rays glinted off their dust-coated body armor. Although they were dust covered, their armor showed careful maintenance – so unlike that of most of the garbage mechs. Bee's optics were drawn to the diamond-tipped drill heads on the mechs' robot mode backs. Obviously, these mechs were Miner mechs in their alt mode. And well financed ones at that!

T'ran laughed as she ran up to the group and buried herself in one of the bigger mech's arms. He spun her around with a smile on his face as his friends laughed and joked.

"Hey M'ron, um, long time?" Droct stammered as he looked bashfully at his peds. He shifted from one-to-the-other in slight nervousness as the group surrounded them.

The rest of the group turned their optics to the ugly mech, several of them trying to disguise expressions of repulsion. Droct just kept his optics to the group, obviously used to this reaction. But at least they attempted to be polite about masking their natural repulsion to his appearance. Miners were much better to be around than other garbage mechs. Well, as long as they found a use for you.

Bumblebee was a little sickened to his core, for it wasn't fair that kind, gentle Droct was treated with so much disrespect. Even though the miners were being more subtle about it – it was still obvious that they didn't care to really be around him. Simply because he didn't look like all the others! The little yellow mech wished that Brawn was here. That Autobot would kick all of their afts for treating Droct like this! Brawn didn't care what anyone looked like. If they were honest and fair – he'd be their friend. Plain and simple!

M'ron put T'ran down and slapped the smaller garbage mech on the shoulder, almost knocking Droct onto the ground. A few of his fellow miners snickered derisively, causing T'ran to put her hands on her hips and glare at them. They quieted down, so Bee assumed that her boyfriend, M'ron, must be one of the leaders or something. Ignoring his friends, M'ron's deep laughter filled the mountain air. "So T'ran here's, been telling me that you finally went and found yourself a mech. 'Bout time!" His tone was honest, as were his optics…

"Sorry, um, this is Yellow," Droct stammered as he motioned toward Bee. He was obviously very intimidated by the Miner mech, even though M'ron seemed to be a fairly likeable character and protected T'ran's brother to a point. It was the fact that M'ron was well-liked and popular – and Droct never would be. Never again…

M'ron's green optics turned towards Bumblebee, and he seemed to evaluate the little mech as he scanned him. "So you're Yellow," he stated.

Every optic from the miner's group fell onto Bee, judging the small mech. A few whispers erupted amongst them, as they discussed him and 'The Ugly mech', in not the nicest of terms. In fact, a few of them showed some blatant interest in the bright colored mech.

Realizing that the best thing he could do was to blatantly ignore the group of bigger mechs, Bee kept his optics locked on M'ron. He wanted to make it clear that HE wasn't afraid or intimidated by any of them. No matter how much bigger they were! Boldly, he nodded and offered his hand to the bigger mech. He figured M'ron couldn't be that bad of a character, since T'ran hung out with him. She was so protective of Droct that he was sure she'd never date anyone that would be mean to him.

Taking his hand, the miner mech gave it a firm shake. "Must say, you're the best lookin' one he's fixed up to date," he complimented.

His optics roved over Bee's shiny yellow armor, making the smaller mech fidget under the scrutiny. He could ignore the looks from the other miners, but this was T'ran's bo. Shifting a bit, he nodded in agreement to his words as he slid an arm around Droct's waist. He wanted to make it clear that he was with Droct – and only with Droct.

He could hear the other miners quietly agreeing with M'ron. Trying to ignore them, he felt his core temperature rise in anxiety. Internally shaking himself, he tried to get rid of the sensation of unwanted circuits jamming into his. He knew T'ran wouldn't let them touch him, and since M'ron seemed to be her 'back up' – he knew he was safe from any molestation from the miners.

"Looks like the little yellow actually likes you," M'ron teased as his gaze shifted to Droct.

The nervous garbage mech chewed on his hidden lip and nodded, his face plate heating up in embarrassment. Changing the subject to avoid further comments concerning his possible private life, he cleared his vocalizer. "Sorry it took us so long to get here. But, um, you wanted me to find a new vein?" Droct asked. He looked up at M'ron with a hopeful expression in his optics. He was good at doing this and they would leave him and Yellow alone while he worked. A situation that he preferred…

Nodding to Bee, the Miner mech released his hand. M'ron turned and put his arm around Droct as if he was a brother. Guiding the whole group towards the mine entrance, he explained to Droct that they had an order for Iridium. He was sure that Droct could find a better vein than the one they had been mining. And he had until the morning shift came on line – to try and find it.

------

"You've got to be kidding me," Ironhide muttered under his breath. He forced a fake smile onto his face plate as he sat down next to Inferno. His optics met those of his former partner, who had spotted him instantly when his group had entered the energon pub. This was unusual since Prowl hadn't seemed the type to go bar hopping, more the all-work-no-play type than the partying type. That's why he'd hit on Ironhide when a particularly rambunctious young soldier had started making moves on him a while back..

The crowd shifted a bit. Exposing the mech that Prowl was with. Ironhide couldn't help but choke on his energon in surprise, for it was that very soldier standing next to Prowl. "Fragger actually caught the prick!?" he added to himself.

"What fragger?" Inferno whispered, his optics scanning the crowded pub.

Wheeljack elbowed him from the other side. The inventor gave him a knowing smirk as he slid an arm rather seductively over Ratchet's shoulder armor.

The fire engine sighed in resignation, forced a smile on his face plate and copied the action on Ironhide. "Wheeljack's orders," he whispered to Ironhide before the smaller mech considered hitting him. He'd hit himself tonight when they got back to their temporary 'quarters' in the psych unit – just to make sure that he remembered that this was all an act.

"Ain't this the icing on the energon," Ironhide muttered, "we got us some medics forcin' us to act like this and now my prick of an ex-partner is on his way over." Swallowing back his nausea, he leaned against Inferno and looked up at him with what he hoped was a love-struck expression. Well, he hoped it was a love-struck expression. He hadn't actually ever felt that emotion. Hadn't ever really dated much so had never had the chance. But femmes were few and far between – and those were the only ones he ever caught himself looking at..

"He was your partner?" Inferno asked. He glanced at the police clone striding towards them, dragging along some visor-shielded mech. The cop didn't have a very pleased expression on his face plate at all.

"Yeah, and he's pissed that we're supposedly hanging all over each other." Boldly, Ironhide waved at Prowl as if he'd just noticed him. Silently he wished he'd aimed a little better with the liquid Nitrogen during their argument a while back….

"Dare I ask why?" Inferno squeezed his armor, smiling invitingly at the approaching mech.

"Because I blew him off and he ended up with that guy," Ironhide replied.

Scooting over towards Wheeljack, Inferno pulled Ironhide a little tighter to his side, making room for the approaching couple. "I take it you told him you weren't into mechs when you did that?" It was all making sense now.

"Pretty much." Ironhide grinned up at the rather miffed Prowl as he stopped at their table. "Hey partner – energon's sweet tonight!" he greeted the pair with his biggest slag-eatin' grin.

Prowl wasn't amused in the least. Turning his optics to the two medics he narrowed them in suspicion. "Since when do medics party with their patients?"

Ratchet grinned as he chugged down some of his brew. Many mechs were misled by his tendency to be over focused on his work. They assumed he was a serious no-nonsense type. Truth of the matter was that he chafed under the constrictions of the military. He was a natural jokester with a rather sharp edged sense of humor. An edge as sharp as his wrench was hard – both of which he rather enjoyed using on those whom he perceived as gung-ho military types; Such as the one standing in front of him in fact… "Since when did the brass start dating the enlisted?" he shot back.

Prowl's optics couldn't narrow much further. He glanced accusingly at Ironhide. Only himself and the van knowing why he did so – or so he thought….

But Ratchet was as quick minded as he was sharp optic'd. He not only caught the flash of expression in Prowl's optics – he also accurately guessed the reason behind it. Standing up as if he was going to fetch more energon, he pushed by Prowl. "You shut your trap about our new rehab technique – and I won't tell your bo that you had a crush on a red van," he whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

The police car's dental plates slammed shut in disbelief. Glaring after the white medic, he jerked on Jazz's hand and nodded for him to sit down.

Conveniently, the forever cheerful mech plopped himself right down next to Ironhide and began to gabber away. "So, you're Ironhide right? Yeah, Prowl told me 'bout ya bros being partners on the battlefield. So what's it like?" On and on he talked and asked questions, seemingly hanging onto every word that Ironhide said.

Prowl wanted to roll his optics so badly, but he resisted. Instead, he silently studied how the two red mechs were acting towards each other. They seemed somewhat awkward with their small shows of affection. As if….. As if they were actually first timers at it all – or – perhaps they weren't truly into each other. With a conniving grin, the cop slid another round of energon towards the pair and the two medics. No, he wasn't worried about what would happen with the medics. Their antics back at the academy were well-known. What he wanted to know was what would happen when the two patients got tipsy.

Sipping his own brew very slowly, Prowl made small talk as he watched the rest of the mechs around him getting further and further over-energized. It didn't even bother him when his over-attentive date made some unervingly bold moves towards him in such a public forum. These 'Jazz traits' more often than not would have made for some conflict between them under normal circumstances – but this wasn't a normal circumstance in the least…

Prowl's entire focus was on answering an internal question. A mystery that would surely drive him to glitches if he didn't investigate! Why in the universe would Ironhide have blown him off claiming that he 'wasn't into mechs like that' – yet here he was supposedly on a date with a MECH!?! A mech that Prowl couldn't help but consider just a little lower than himself on the attractiveness scale for an eager brawler like Ironhide. Why would the van choose a non-combatant field support soldier – over a mech whom stood door-to-door with him on the battlefield that he so dearly loved?? WHY???

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Please review..


	15. Finding the Vein

**Finding the Vein**

Bumblebee watched as T'ran and M'ron walked away with the group of miner mechs. The group was heading towards the solidly built shanty town of the miner mechs. The couple was hand-in-hand and there was an unusual bounce in T'ran's step. He smiled a little, for it was obvious that those two really liked each other. And from M'ron's comments, he could tell that T'ran hadn't moved in with the miner – simply because she didn't want to leave her brother all alone.

Glancing over at the ugly garbage mech, who was intently studying the mine's maps and mumbling to himself while he traced known veins with his fingertips – Bee's engines revved slightly. For as soon as he could tell them who he was, and get a job offered to Droct – then T'ran could happily move in with the big miner mech. It would be great for everyone involved wouldn't it?!?

Wandering over to Droct, Bee casually threw his arm over his shoulder and leaned over the map. He had no earthly idea what the mech was mumbling about, he just liked listening to the excitement in the mech's voice. Droct turned and smiled happily behind his mask, pointing to various areas on the map and trying to explain everything about veins to Bee – all at once!

The yellow mech just grinned and shrugged. He didn't care if he understood what they were doing, he was just happy that Droct was happy. And one day… One day, Droct would be happily waiting for him back in his quarters on whatever Autobot base he would be assigned to.

"Well, follow me – I've got a couple of areas that we need to check," Droct told him. His intakes were fluctuating with excitement. Nodding to Bee, Droct transformed and disappeared into the mine shaft.

Transforming, Bee hurried along after his friend. His engines purred at a steady rpm and he quickly realized that Droct was setting a fairly easy pace this time. After the mad dash from the dump up here to the mountains – Bee was so happy that he could finally relax. The smooth solid rock under his tires felt so good, after the rough terrain of the dump that he'd gotten so used to. Even as the tons of rock above him, seemed to press down oppressively, Bee's core felt lighter than air. He didn't care that he was in a deep dark hole; his smart friend was on the hunt for something good!

A flash of a thought tried to creep through his active RAM. The thought that Decepticon Seekers were much too big to fit through these tight tunnels! Though he quickly drove that thought away, Bee found himself relaxing further. Being underground was a very, very good place to be…

Following Droct through turn after turn, Bee was soon totally lost. Scanning the darkness around him with his infrared sensory arrays, he could see nothing but a seemingly endless tunnel of smooth, worked stone. The air was cool and damp, with no breeze to tell him the direction of the surface. His intakes filled with the sweet air, cleansing out the odors from the noxious gases of the landfill. He'd never thought about how air smelled until now. Never thought about a lot of things – before his capture that is…. His engine sputtered slightly as he sighed contentedly. For he had finally learned how to truly live!

"Let's check here," Droct announced. Stopping and transforming, he turned on his headlights and scanned the wall of the shaft. Running his fingers over the stone, he almost seemed to be feeling for the metal element that he was searching for.

Bee transformed and added his light to Droct's. Staying still, he patiently watched the garbage mech as he searched. Everything looked kind've the same to his untrained optic. All dark and shades of gray….

"Thanks Yellow, the extra light really helps down here." Behind his mask, he grinned at his bright yellow friend. Going back to his studying of the rock, Droct smashed his fist into it and knocked out a chunk. Glancing at the piece in his hand, he rolled it over and over – studying the way it glinted in the light. "It's a decent vein, but not the best," he told Bee. Taking out a spray can of paint, he painted a red X on the stone.

"Well, let's go look in one of the other areas," Droct said cheerily. Slapping Bee on the back, he transformed and started driving back the way they had come.

Turning off his lights and reactivating his infrared systems, Bee transformed and fell in behind the happy garbage mech. Following him through a maze of twists and turns, the yellow mech couldn't even fathom how his friend could keep track of where they'd been and where they were going. But obviously, Droct could. So trusting fully in the mech, Bee happily followed along.

Stopping, Droct transformed and studied the entrance to yet another shaft. Turning his headlights on, he looked at the roughness of the smaller shaft. A frown crossed his face underneath his mask, for this shaft was an older unused section that had fallen in disrepair. But something inside him told him that what he wanted – was down there.

"Well, you might as well transform to 'bot mode. This shaft has too much fallen bedrock, to drive over. Sorry, but it's gonna be a rough go now," he told Bee.

Transforming, Bee followed him down the smaller shaft. They clambered and crawled over fallen rocks. Shimmied their way through tight cracks left by cave-ins. Several areas, Bee had to push Droct up to the next section, and then Droct would lie down, reach his hand down, and pull Bee up. Bee's hydraulics strained with the odd work, unused to this constant crawling and climbing. Finally, Droct stopped and studied a wall.

Bee sat down heavily, keeping his headlights on the wall that his friend was studying, while he allowed his intakes to cool his overworked hydraulic pumps. As his systems cooled, his optics began to spot the tail-tale glint of metallic gleam within the rock that Droct was mumbling excitedly about. From his friend's happy tone, he was sure that they had finally found what M'ron wanted.

Smashing his fist against the wall, Droct gathered a sample. Turning towards Bee, he plopped himself down in front of him and handed the sample to him. As the yellow mech turned the rock over in his hand, Droct told him all about it. The excitement in his voice was unmistakable as he described everything Bee never wanted to know about this particular metal and its various uses.

Bee just grinned and nodded as his friend talked. He had absolutely no interest in rocks, and wished he could tell the mech that he didn't understand a single thing he was saying. But he just humored him, his meta filling with a rather humorous vision of Beachcomber sitting next to the mech. The Autobot geologist would be just as excited, and happily discussing all the technicals with Droct. A warm feeling spread up from Bee's core, for he couldn't wait until he could get the two of them together! He knew they'd end up really good friends.

Droct looked up at Bee, stopping in mid-sentence. "I'm sorry Yellow, you're not understanding a thing I'm saying – are you?" he asked.

Bee figured he might as well be honest, so with a big smile on his face, he shook his head and shrugged. Handing the sample back to Droct, he patted his friend's leg.

Accepting the sample back, Droct cocked his head in amusement at his friend. He couldn't believe how easy-going the yellow mech was. To follow him around blindly, not knowing or probably even caring about – what they were looking for.

Grabbing the can of spray paint from Droct's other hand; Bee marched up to the rock and painted a bull's eye on it. Chuckling, he tossed the can back to Droct and plopped himself down on the dusty ground again.

Tucking the can of paint into his cab along with the sample, the garbage mech leaned back against a boulder and smiled at his buddy. The light from his headlights danced crazily over Bee's shiny yellow armor, making him even more attractive. "Well, we've found what M'ron wants, and we've still got three astrohours before day shift comes to work," he informed Bee.

Taking it as an invitation to finish what T'ran had interrupted earlier in the day, a devilish smile crossed Bee's face as he slid toward his friend. Straddling Droct, he pressed his hood against the mech's armor. Sliding his hands up, he gently unlatched the excited mech's facemask, enjoying the garbage mech's shivers of anticipation.

As Bee's lips took his, Droct allowed his gently probing glossa free rein. A surge came from his core, spreading through him like an electric wave. Trembling, he wrapped his arms around the brilliantly colored mech, pressing Bee even tighter to him. He still couldn't quite believe that this gorgeous mech seemed to like him so much, and that made it even more special to him. Feeling Bee's fingers slip into his shoulder joint, he shivered as they gently stroked his linkages within.

Returning the favor, he slipped his own fingertips underneath Bee's hood, finding the sensitive infrared arrays hidden beneath. Bee jerked in reaction to the intense stimuli, his glossa diving in deeper, his lips pressed so tightly against Droct's that it was almost painful. Enjoying Bee's reaction, Droct slid his fingertips underneath the mech's codpiece, accessing the most sensitive circuits beneath.

Gripping Droct tightly, Bee rode the wave of intense impulse. His fingers dug into one of Droct's damaged panels, the mild pain making it even more exciting to Droct. Freed of Bee's lips as the yellow mech arched against him, Droct gasped as the mech's fingers slipped further in through his damaged armor. Bee unconsciously scraped his fingers against some of the main servos within the joint.

Unlatching his own codpiece, Droct took Bee's lips again. This time, he was going to try and be in control. For he felt that Bee had finally taught him enough. Rolling over, he ended up on top of the yellow mech, pressing his bulk against him.

Suddenly, Bee froze. Just like he had when he had seen those Seekers! Looking down at his friend, Droct's core sunk as he saw the look of pure terror on the mech's face. At first, he considered rolling off Bee. But then some discussions that he and T'ran had had concerning how to help the mech overcome his fear of Seekers – popped into Droct's meta. He had to get the mech to face his fears, and overcome them.

Staying on top of Bee, Droct caressed his helm gently, as he talked to him. "Shhh, it's ok Yellow, it's just me. I won't rape you. You know that," he whispered over-and-over to him. The mech trembled in terror beneath him, his optics glazed over. Droct could tell that he wasn't seeing reality, he was living the past. Keeping the mech's arms locked down, Droct patiently waited and talked – knowing eventually the yellow mech would calm down.

For thirty astrominutes they lay like this. The yellow mech blacked out in total terror about having a mech on top of him. The weight pressing down on him, the bared circuits so close. His meta reliving the past, expecting the pain of rape. But the pain never came. Only gentle fingers ran along his armor, the voice promising not to rape him. Slowly, his systems cooled down, his battle processor finally allowing his meta back into reality. The voice became Droct's, the fingers were those of his lover; The familiar press of the mech that was on top of him, unsettling – but no longer terrifying him to his core.

As Bee's optics cleared, Droct looked down on him in relief. "I'm sorry Yellow, I didn't realize it would scare you so badly," he said gently. His fingers traced Bee's helm. "But T'ran says you've got to face your fears, or you won't get over them." He kissed Bee gently, still keeping his arms locked down. "I promise I won't hurt you, you know I won't. But can you face your fear?"

Bee gulped. He knew he had to face it, but even though he truly loved this mech and trusted him. He just didn't know if he could bond this way. But he didn't want to be afraid; he wanted to get over it.. So if this was the only way – could he trust any other? Would he ever want to with any other? Droct wouldn't hurt him; he knew this down to his core.. he wouldn't hurt him..

His optics bright with anxiety, Bee slowly nodded. He just had to get over it – just had to!

Droct gently rubbed his helm. "We'll do it like when I cleaned you up. If it gets too much just shake your head and we'll stop at that point until you calm down – ok?"

Bee nodded, trying to force himself to relax. This was Droct, he'd never hurt him.. He forced his engines to slow down, his system slowly able to cool the temperature back to normal operating level.

Taking his lips, Droct slowly ran his fingertips over Bee's hood. Working his way over the trembling mech's entire chassis, he stayed only on the surface. Slowly, the yellow mech quit trembling and relaxed. For a few more astrominutes, the gentle garbage mech just stayed there and rubbed his fingers over his friend's armor. His headlights reflected off of the beautiful yellow paint in dancing rays.

Bee nodded to him, those brilliant blue orbs full of trust. His lower lip still trembled with his anxiety belying his internal fear. His fear of the pain he'd been forced to live through…

Droct's core jumped nervously, he didn't want to go too fast. He didn't want to scare his friend again. Wishing T'ran was here to tell him what to do; he gulped and just prayed he was doing the right thing. Slowly, he slipped his fingertips in between some of Bee's seams. Gently caressing the sensitive circuitry beneath as he took the mech's lips. He felt the frame beneath him tense, and begin to tremble in fear again. So for long astrominutes he didn't move his fingers, didn't push the yellow mech past his breaking point again.

Bee finally relaxed again. Telling himself over-and-over that this was Droct.. Not a Decepticon.. Just gentle Droct.. Who'd never hurt him. Returning the mech's kiss, he told him through his reactions – to go further.

As his friend finally returned his kiss and relaxed, Droct moved his hand downward. Fingering the latches of the mech's latched codpiece. His own spark jumped in anticipation of the bonding, but he calmed it, knowing that if he went to fast it would be nothing but rape. And he'd never, never take his friend like that. Again, the yellow mech tensed under him. So he didn't unlatch the armor, he just waited patiently; waiting for his friend's signal to continue.

When those fingers touched his latches, Bee almost blacked out in terror again. The weight pressing down on him.. His arms locked to the ground.. The feeling of absolute helplessness.. The feeling of bared circuits against his armor, just waiting to be thrust into him.. Again and again.. He fought back his terror. Locking his optics on the face of his friend, his love – he concentrated on how his headlights seemed to dance over his friend's armor. His friend, so patient and understanding.. His friend, who'd never force him.. Never hurt him.. He felt himself calming as he concentrated on Droct, until finally, he could nod.

When Bee nodded to him, Droct felt himself shiver in his own anticipation. Fighting those impulses down, he slowly unlatched his friend's armor, but kept his own bared circuits away. Predictably, the yellow mech almost froze again as Droct's fingers accessed his most sensitive circuitry. So the garbage mech again settled himself for the long patient wait of just laying there and stroking Bee's bared circuits with his fingertips. Fighting down his own spark and circuits pulsating with unfulfilled needs.

Almost freezing in terror, Bee concentrated on the dance of light on his friend. His patient and understanding friend… The mech who'd never, never hurt him.. Calming himself, he allowed himself to begin to enjoy the impulses running through him from Droct's caress. Still not ready to complete the bonding, he didn't nod. But the ever patient Droct just lay on top of him, letting him enjoy the pleasure, without feeling pressured. Finally, he found himself arching against Droct because of the stimulation. His spark began to pound against his armor, trying to reach Droct's spark. So teasingly close.

Droct's spark leaped as the yellow mech finally nodded. Resisting the urge to slam his circuits deeply into Bee's, he just lightly brushed their hips together. The shock of the barely connected circuits flew threw them both. Bee arched against him, forcing Droct's circuits ever deeper. Their sparks joined in a fury of energy, flowing through both of them in waves of intensity.

With a final tremble, the two small mechs overloaded together; the vein of terror starting to finally heal within Bumblebee.

------

_Meanwhile back home……_

_-----_

"Oh, and when I saw who'd they'd stuck me with – wow!" The room seemed to be spinning slightly around Ironhide as he and Jazz swapped stories of how they had met their current dates. Granted, he was lying his tail pipes off, but the flash of jealousy that crossed Prowl's stern face plate was simply to die for. Taking another big swig of the sweet brew, Ironhide decided to really liven up the tale even further. Turning, the very inebriated mech planted a dry kiss on Inferno's lips. "It was even better after they let us loose. Guess we gave them a heck of a show, huh Inferno?" he snickered and gave Ratchet a mischievous wink.

He'd figured out the white medic's strange sense of humor. Or at least he thought he had. And the mech seemed to go out of his way to get under the armor of military brass; which just happened to fall right into Ironhide's plans of making Prowl feel like total worthless slag! Yep, cop had to feel a little self-conscious right now considering that he had gotten stuck with the rather annoying ensign – while Ironhide's excuse for blowing him off seemed to have been a flat-out lie. And the van had no qualms in making the prick feel even worse about himself!

Falling right into the act, Ratchet grinned and nodded. "Too bad we weren't taping at the time." He was glad to see that his patient was regaining a sense of humor; a sense of humor that he could more than empathize with.

"He, he, he, yeah I guess we could've given the tape to Sun. He likes watching red mechs go at it," Wheeljack snickered. His optics were full of a mischievous gleam. Glancing slyly at the police cruiser, he noticed a hint of jealousy on his face plate. So he'd once been after Ironhide? This was sweet!

Shocked at the bold kiss, and getting even more embarrassed about the lewd commentary concerning about what he and Ironhide had actually never done – Inferno's face plate heated up fast. With shaky digits, he reached for his brew and took a big swig of it. Too big of a swig in fact, for he ended up choking himself; the cup went flying as he coughed up energon. His companions fleeing from the table as he coated them all….

"Ya ok buddy?" Ironhide drawled as he banged on his back armor.

Gasping for air, the fire engine sputtered as he desperately tried to clean off the energon coating his face plate. In his over energized state, he was only successful in making yet a bigger mess of himself. Now his optic lenses were coated, so he couldn't even see through the haze. Falling over, he ended up tumbling out of the booth – pushing Ironhide out along with him. With a crash of metal on concrete, the pair ended up on the floor in the middle of the pub. Inferno on top of Ironhide - still desperately trying to clean off his lenses…

Ironhide's first impulse was to get angry, but right as he opened his mouth to yell at the mech – he spied Prowl staring at them with an expression of total rejection. So instead of getting mad at Inferno, the van decided to seal the deal with one final show of 'affection'. A show he KNEW would be passed around in gossip like wild fire. Especially with twelve other officers now turned in their seats and looking his way. "Po thang, ya just can't handle the ol' energon now can ya? Here, let me get it off ya optics," he drawled.

Even Wheeljack's mouth fell open in disbelief as the van licked every drop of energon from Inferno's optics. His red chassis moving seductively with every smack of his glossa….

-----

"Did you HAVE to lick me?" Inferno muttered as he applied more cleaning solution to his face plate and optics. It was the twentieth time he'd cleaned them since they'd gotten back to their room. But no matter how hard he scrubbed, he could still feel the creepy sensation of a mech glossa on them!

Ironhide just grinned and gave him a shrug. "Hell, we killed two cyberbirds with one shot! I got even with Prowl – and now everyone believes we're a pair," he snickered.

Sighing in disgust, the fire engine set down the towel he had been using. "Ok, I'll give you that. Just DON'T do that again – or I'll have to kick your aft later."

Laying back, the van put his arms behind his helm and stared up at the ceiling; a mischievous grin on his face plate. As if Inferno COULD kick his aft! He thought to himself. But he decided to humor the mech. "Ya got yourself a deal buddy."

---

Please review..


	16. Harsh truths and some fun

**Harsh Truths**

Slowly, the alarms went off one by one in Bumblebee's head. Even before he reactivated his optics, he felt the press of a mech on top of him. His arms still locked down firmly against the rubble covered ground. But it didn't frighten him anymore! He knew it was Droct, and the black terror never came! Smiling at the small victory over what the cons had done to him, Bee's blue optics brightened.

He scanned the old mine shaft. The cool, damp air felt good against his armor. The tons of solid stone that seemed to press down all around him, wasn't oppressive in the least. In fact, it was very comforting, since most of the cons were much too large to ever come down to these depths. He wondered if it might be better to become a miner mech. Perhaps follow Droct around while he searched for new veins of ore? Then he wouldn't have to fight the cons again. Have to face his fear of Seekers again. Feeling shame begin to course through him, he shook those thoughts from his mind. He was an Autobot wasn't he? And one day they'd defeat the sloggers. Then mechs like Droct could come back home. Come back to Cybertron where they belonged.

"Hmmmm," Droct murmured as he slowly reactivated. He felt the yellow mech still lying under him. But there was no trembling of terror to be felt. Reactivating his optics, he found himself staring into the calm optics of his friend. "I'm sorry I forced you to face your fear Yellow. But T'ran said it was the only way." He shifted as he apologized, freeing Bee's arms.

Shaking his head, Bee grabbed the mech's helm and forced him into a passionate kiss. Droct had only done what he thought was best for Bee, and the yellow mech knew this. Now that his fear of being helpless under the weight of another had been vanquished – he loved Droct even that much more. And he wanted the mech to understand this.

A little shocked at first, Droct relaxed as he realized his friend was trying to say that he didn't need to apologize for it. That the yellow mech wanted to get over it! The satisfaction of helping his friend coursed through him, along with the waves of pleasure that Bee's glossa toying with his was causing. Finally, the yellow mech freed his lips and lay back against the rough floor. The normal cheerful smile was back on his face plate.

Rolling off of him, Droct stood up and started to relatch his armor. "Well, at least T'ran didn't interrupt this time, huh?" he joked. He grinned sheepishly at his yellow friend as he winked.

Nodding his agreement, Bumblebee hopped up to his feet and relatched his own armor. Picking up Droct's discarded facemask, he casually tossed it to the mech as he began to carefully make his way back towards the main mineshafts.

Chuckling at his silent, but bold friend; Droct relatched his facemask and followed after him. Carefully he picked his way over and around the fallen rocks, as their headlights caused the old shaft to dance in haphazard waves of light.

The sound of the morning shift coming through the mine assailed their audios as they made it to one of the main shafts. Telling Bee to stop, Droct casually reached up to a copper pipe that ran along a crevice between the wall and the ceiling. Tapping a 'miner's code' he told the miner mechs where they were and what they'd found. Then he and Bee sat down and waited for M'ron's group to arrive.

---

"So you found a good vein?" M'ron's deep voice asked. He and four other miner mechs stopped and transformed in front of the two smaller mechs. Their helms almost touched the low ceiling.

Droct stood up and pulled the second sample out of his cab. "Um, yes," he stammered as he handed the sample to the big miner mech.

Taking the sample, M'ron turned his back to the garbage mech. For a few minutes, he and the other miners passed the sample back and forth as they discussed it's concentration of ore and value.

"So where is this vein located?" One of the others asked Droct. His optics were harsh as he looked down at the ugly mech; if the garbage mech weren't so good at finding them quality veins to work – he'd have absolutely no use for him. And the darned mech was so pathetic and ugly, that the miner really didn't even like looking at him either. But M'ron would kick any mech's aft for actually acting on their true feelings about his girlfriend's pathetic brother, and no one wanted their alt mode rearranged the hard way.

Droct kept his optics on the stone floor. He knew how these miners saw him. The same way all the mechs seemed to look at him. Ever since the 'accident', no one wanted to be around him. He couldn't blame them though, if he was normal – he might not want to be around a mech like him either. Sighing inside, Droct knew he couldn't change what had happened, and never in a million years could he ever hope to afford – or deserve – the total structural rebuild that it would take to straighten him out. Nope, he was stuck like this, and he'd grown to accept this fact of his life.

Pointing down the half-collapsed mine shaft that he and Bee had explored, Droct gave them the exact distance and position of the ore vein.

The miners returned to their discussions for a while. Pointedly ignoring the mech who'd found the valuable vein for them.

Bee watched the interaction, seeing the obvious disgust the other miners had for his gentle friend. He could tell that it was only Droct's valuable ability and the fact that M'ron was dating his sister – that forced the miners to at least treat him with some civility. He had no doubts that if it weren't for those two things, the miners were the type to just kick Droct's aft for no reason other than his appearance. Just like the garbage mechs would. Deep sadness filled his core as he realized just how truly alone Droct was. And through no fault of his own! He swore that he'd never leave the poor mech, regardless of what he had to do.

"Well Droct, you've done well it seems," M'ron said as he turned back to the timid garbage mech. "Tell you what, since you and your little friend here have searched all night, go to my shack and get some rest. I've got a little energon in the storage if you need it." Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to the group of miners and began to discuss options of how to get to the new vein to start working it.

"Um, thanks M'ron," Droct stammered to the big mech's back. Then he motioned to Bee to follow him. They transformed and began the long twisting drive back to the surface.

---

Passing several more large groups of miner mechs, the two small mechs pressed themselves tightly against the side of the shaft, not wanting to cause any trouble for the bigger mechs. Still, several of the miners made very derogatory remarks to Droct. Insulting him openly, since neither M'ron or T'ran were anywhere close. Droct just kept his vocals silent, very used to this type of treatment.

Bee wanted desperately to yell back at them all. He wished he had his gun, and then he'd teach the sloggers to treat his friend with a little decency! But he couldn't do either. So fuming silently, he followed his friend to the surface. The stinging comments and jokes followed them along.

Finally, the beautiful light from the planet's star flooded their optics. Transforming, the two squinted in the sudden glare as they made their way towards the miners' town. A couple of the giant borer mechs passed them. One of them made sure to 'accidentally' step too close to Droct; which caused the garbage mech to fall down on the rough rock from the hard hit. The pair of heavy giants snickered at the fun, and continued on their way to the main mine shaft.

Knowing that not even M'ron would stand up to the hundred ton behemoths, Bee silently helped his staggering friend back up to his feet. Now, what little armor the mech had, that hadn't been dented – was. Wishing that Omega Supreme was around, Bee envisioned the giant guardian teaching those rude mechs a hard lesson in manners.

"It's ok Yellow. I deserved it. I just didn't get out of their way fast enough," Droct explained. His tone of voice indicated that he truly felt that he deserved every bad thing that others did to him.

Bee put his hands on his friend's shoulders, shaking the mech roughly as he shook his head. The poor mech didn't deserve to be treated like this! Didn't he understand that it wasn't his fault that all these mechs were pieces of slag?

Looking up in surprise, Droct saw the anger on his friend's face. His core brightened a little, for at least he had a mech that loved him – that got mad when others treated him like this. But if the mech wanted to stay with him, he'd have to understand and accept that this was Droct's lot in life. There was nothing that could change how others reacted to his deformities. "Yellow its ok. That's just how it is. I'm sorry you don't like it, but we can't change what they think."

Bee wanted so much to yell at his friend. To tell him to quit apologizing! That he could indeed change the way mechs saw him. Because Bee was an Autobot, his friends could fix Droct. They could make him normal. But he couldn't talk, he couldn't tell the mech – yet. Fighting down his anger, he simply nodded his temporary acceptance of the whole situation.

Droct led the way to M'ron's shack. Bumblebee followed silently behind, still fuming inside about the unfairness of Droct's life. He couldn't wait until he could tell Droct that he could be fixed. That he could be 'normal', and not have to deal with the continual degradation that he was so used to.

"Hey Droct, find anything?" T'ran's voice asked as they entered the sturdy shack.

Slowly their optics acclimated to the cool darkness of the interior. T'ran sat casually on a 'couch' that seemed to be cut out of the mountain itself. Her back leaned up against the solid stone wall. Unlike the garbage mech shacks, this one was primered against the elements, solidly constructed and without a hint of rust or corrosion. Its roof was solid galvanized steel, and three walls were made up of solid blocks of stone. Only the front wall was metal. And that was thick and solid, the heavy door hung with solid hinges. It was also fairly spacious, with a seating area and a defragmenting area, all in the single room.

Sitting down on a stone 'couch' that faced the one T'ran was lounging on, Droct nodded. "Yep, found a real good ore vein." His optics beamed in hidden pride, even as he remained so darned humble about his talent.

Bee settled himself down next to Droct and grinned slyly at the femme.

Looking back and forth between the two, T'ran realized that they'd probably done far more than just 'look for ore'. Especially when she considered the cocky, slag eatin' grin that was now planted on the yellow mech's face. Chuckling to herself, she was very happy that Droct had found this fixer-upper – for he'd turned out to be the best thing for her brother.

Getting up, she went over to the storage area and grabbed some of the mid-grade that M'ron had stashed. Her boyfriend always shared some with Droct when the mech found him the ore he wanted, so since Droct had apparently been successful, T'ran knew M'ron would give him some. Grabbing a little extra, she figured that Yellow deserved some too. And since M'ron seemed to like the little spunky character, she knew it wouldn't be an issue.

Tossing a couple of cubes at the mechs, she grinned and plopped herself back down on 'her' couch.

"Thanks T'ran," Droct said softly. Taking his mask off, he took a small sip. Relaxing as he kept the energon swishing in his mouth for a while, enjoying the oh-so-sweet flavor of the highest-grade he ever got to taste.

Bumblebee did the same. Amazing himself that the flavor of the lowly mid-grade was so damned – good! Yes, the cycles spent living off of the lowest grade of energon had made his taste sensors truly appreciate the flavor of mid-grade. And he knew his engine would really run smooth on this stuff. Thinking back to his life with the Autobots, he was truly appalled at how narrowly they looked at the Galaxy. They'd bitch, whine, and moan – if they even once HAD to drink mid-grade! He could imagine if they had to even consider touching the low-grade. Boy, they'd have to peel Tracks off the ceiling if that ever happened!

The muffled sounds of Seeker engines filled the shack. The rumble caused the very floor to vibrate. Bee dropped his energon cube, his optics widening in terror. He felt Droct and T'ran surround him with their arms. Their voices telling him not to be afraid, that he was safe, that the Seeker wouldn't find him in here. Fighting his urge to black out in terror, he focused on their voices, their optics. Slowly, he calmed down.

With Droct still holding the terrified yellow mech, T'ran cracked the heavy door open and glanced outside. Then she shut it again.

"It's just that blue one. He brought the little jeep to make a deal with the miners," she explained to the two mechs. She went, sat back down and picked up her energon cube – as if it was just an everyday occurrence for the miners to be making deals with Decepticons.

Bee's optics widened in silent outrage. It was obviously Thundercracker and Swindle out there. And the miner mechs were apparently used to doing business with them!?! His core filled with outrage over the whole situation. Why would the miner mechs do business with the evil Decepticons!?! They were supporting the bastards!

Droct sighed as he relaxed against the wall, still holding Bee in his arms. "Well, at least it's only the two. The other group probably won't notice then," he said softly. His voice seemed to be filled with a strange emotion.

T'ran snorted with disgust. "If the damned Autobots would just stay out of it, then M'ron could make a better living and you wouldn't have – "

"Shut up T'ran, we can't change the past," Droct said sharply. His optics glared at his sister.

Bee looked from one to the other with concern. They didn't seem to like the Autobots. Why? The Autobots were the good guys weren't they? Well, at least they thought so. He had to know why the garbage mechs didn't like Autobots. What had they done wrong?

Turning his face plate up to Droct's, he shrugged and gave him a questioning look, hoping it would prod him into spilling the screws about this strange situation.

T'ran's sharp optics caught what the yellow mech was asking. "The Decepticons may be a bunch of sloggers, Yellow, but they pay the miners pretty well. They're one of the richest mech groups. Normally, everything goes smoothly after the deal's been made. But every now-and-then things go wrong."

Droct cut her off, "He doesn't need to know T'ran. What's done is done, that's it!"

His sister glared at him, "If he wants to be with you, he sure as hell needs to know!" she growled. "It's because of those damned Autobots sticking their olfactory sensors where they don't belong – that you look like you do!"

The ugly mech tensed, glaring at his outspoken sister to just shut up. He didn't need to be reminded of what had happened, he was reminded every time he walked in public. Though he was normally very meek mannered, he didn't want his sister telling his little friend about it. "Just shut up T'ran, I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Bee pulled away from Droct in shock. He'd never seen the meek mech talk back to T'ran like that. Obviously whatever had happened that involved the Autobots, was very painful and personal. He just had to know what had happened. Looking imploringly at T'ran, he nodded for her to continue.

"See, Yellow wants to know," T'ran said victoriously. Her optics challenged her brother to stop her.

Droct stood up, and strode to the door. "Fine, tell him. But I'm NOT going to talk about it!" He growled as he stormed out.

Bee watched him leave, still blown away by the amount of emotion that Droct was showing. His core was sinking, for if Droct hated to even talk about the Autobots, what would he think about the fact that an Autobot was in love with him? Would Droct still want him?

T'ran's digits on his arms pulled him out of his racing thoughts. She had moved to sit next to him, her optics showing her concern. He turned his blue optics to her, imploring her to tell him what had happened. He HAD to know what happened!!!

"You've got to understand Yellow; Droct is still very upset to even think about it. He's not mad at me or you, it's just hard for him," she said quietly.

Bee shrugged, nodding for her to tell him just what had happened to make the meek mech this upset.

T'ran lowered her optics, seeming to stare blankly into the past. "Droct used to look average, Yellow. He was never gorgeous or anything, but he was happy just to blend into the crowd." She paused, as if trying to decide how to tell what had happened. "We were up at another miner camp. And they were paying Droct to locate a better vein of high quality coal. So he was down in the mine shafts. The miners were outside working a deal with a couple of Seekers and a mech named Mix Master. The Decepticons wanted the higher grade coal to make better energon outt've or something."

She paused again, seeming to shudder at her memories. "We didn't know it, but an Autobot strike force was moving into position. They attacked so fast, that none of us could escape. A dozen miners died in that attack." A tear fell down from one of her optics. She paused to wipe it away, sniffing as she did so. "One of the Autobots fired a bunch of missiles at the Seekers. They took off, and the missiles went into the mineshaft. When they impacted, they ignited the methane that had built up in the shaft."

She paused for a long moment, trying to control her emotions. "The shaft burned for day cycles. All of the remaining miners left, because they thought that no one would ever survive that inferno. I stayed in one of the destroyed shacks. I couldn't leave until I'd at least buried what was left of my brother." She broke out into a sob, and then collected herself again.

"When the inferno finally burned all of the methane and just the coal smoldered, I tried to enter the shaft. But it was still too hot. I stayed there for days, just hoping it'd finally cool down, but it didn't. Then, when I was finally going to give up and leave, I heard him." She shuddered, and Bee put his arm around her trying to comfort her. "He was crawling out, Yellow. He was still alive, but barely. He couldn't see, couldn't hear. But he knew the way out. He was pulling himself along with the only limb he had left – his left arm."

She buried herself into Bee's chest armor, the memory of her brother's injuries so painful to her. "There was almost nothing left of him Yellow. His armor was all melted off. He had no face left. His other limbs had been blown off. But he didn't know how damaged he was, he just knew he had to get out. When I could finally get to him, I dragged him the rest of the way. And using parts from the destroyed miner mechs, I put him back together as best I could."

She began to sob quietly, "I should've let him die, Yellow. For ever since then he's been treated worse than dirt. He's had to live as an outcast; even all of his former friends can't stand to look at him. They just see the ugliness of his outside, and ignore that he's still the same on the inside. You're the first one to look past it Yellow. And for the first time – he seems happy." She looked up into Bee's optics as she said the last two sentences, her optics imploring him to never leave her brother.

But now that he knew the truth behind Droct's deformities, how could he ever expect Droct to love him when he found out that Bee was an Autobot? For his faction had been the cause of Droct's misfortune. Droct's pathetic life with no friends and no love – other than his loyal sister – and even his sister seemed to think that Droct would've been better off dead than have had to live like this all these orbit cycles. In a way, she had stayed by his side out of sheer guilt for letting him survive that day. Her guilt in forcing him to live like this.

Shame filled Bee's cores. The shame that the Autobots didn't pay attention to the innocent mechs caught in the middle. They had always just figured that any mech that did business with the cons was supporting the con's war against the Autobots. That they agreed with the con philosophy. And they were so, so wrong! Those mechs were just trying to scrape out a meager living. They didn't care who they sold materials to, just that they earned the pathetic funds.

And Bee had believed the same thing. The same damned faulty belief that these mechs deserved to face punishment for doing business with the Decepticons. And it was because of mechs like him – that gentle mechs like Droct – were forced to live their lives as outcasts!

-----

_Back on Cybertron…_

-----

"You hold it like this," Inferno explained. For the twentieth time, he placed his hands over Ironhide's and moved them into proper position on the high pressure hose.

Snorting, Ironhide shifted his hands right back to where HE thought they should be. "I know how to hold a freagin' hose Inferno – just turn the slaggin thing on!"

"You're gonna loose it if you hold it like that." The fire engine stood back and optic-balled him critically. Why had he gotten stuck training this mech to be a fire fighter? Oh yeah, because everyone now thought they were a pair – thus, they assumed that they'd prefer working together too. Inferno wanted to scream in frustration though. It was bad enough sharing quarters with Ironhide – he sure as heck didn't relish the idea of working all shift with him as well!

"Let me show YOU how it's done! Turn it on!" Ironhide barked. He shot his fake 'boyfriend' his cockiest smirk.

Ok, he was going to have to learn the hard way. Inferno thought to himself. With a shrug, he marched over to the water hookup and turned on the flow.

"See Inferno this ain't….. aaaaaEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" Ironhide flew by Inferno, his digits still gripped tightly around the pressurized hose. His optics wide in total disbelief! WOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHHHHHHH!! The pressure of the spray caused the hose to writhe like some great cyberconstrictor that was over-energized.

Inferno ducked as the mech and hose flew right over him again. He briefly considered turning off the water, but to be honest it was much too fun to watch the stubborn mech flying through the air like this. He ducked again as Ironhide flew in the other direction. _Wonder when he'll think about letting go?_ The fire engine thought to himself.

"AKKKKKKKK…. NGGGGSSSSTTTTT!!!! YAAAAAA FRAAAAAAGGGGGIIINNN PPPPRRRRRIMMMUSSSSS DAAAAAMNNNNED…. UGGGGGG!" Ironhide slid across the wet pavement. His digits curled tightly around the writhing snake of a hose as he scrambled to try and get his peds back under him. Didn't work well, and he ended up sliding helm first across the entire landing pad, crashing into the shuttle with much cursing.

He couldn't help it. No matter how much he tried to stop himself, Inferno just couldn't. This show was better than any raw recruit! Falling to his knee plates, his entire chassis rocked with shrieks of laughter. Turning off the water flow was now completely out of the question!

"FRRRRAAAGGGGINN' PIIIEEECCE OF SLAG!!" The water pressure was pushing him hard against the shuttle's landing gear, which actually HELPED him to regain his footing. Staggering to his peds, he let the pressure push his back armor tight against the solid structure behind him as he finally managed to get the hose under some kind of control. With a triumphant snort "Got ya, ya little slogger!"

Glancing over at his fake boyfriend with a look of triumph on his face plate, Ironhide growled as he saw the mech writhing on the ground in total hysterics. His emotion of pride quickly turned into anger and with a "ya think ya gonna laugh at me?!?" he turned the hose in Inferno's direction.

The fire engine's shrieks of laughter turned into sputters of disbelief as he suddenly found himself sliding helplessly across the slick pavement, the intense pressure of the spray having no problem counter-acting the friction. Tumbling out of control, he ended up going over the edge of landing pad #2, crashing down heavily on the cement a little ways down. Leaping onto his peds, he skidded and slid as he tried to run. But his escape attempt was in vain. Ironhide strutted up to the side of the first landing pad and continued his assault with the water hose….

----

"What's going on – on landing pad #2?" Prowl asked Bluestreak as he walked up and saw what was on the monitor.

The officer just shrugged, though he was giggling under his breath as he watched the fire engine being blown back by one of his own high-pressure hoses. "Lovers spat," he snickered.

Now thoroughly intrigued, Prowl leaned forward and watched the water fight with increasing interest.

---

Please review..


	17. Living a lie and unexpected action

_Note: I use Cybertronian expletives in their various forms. So thanks to a certain reviewer for pointing out that I tend to use the active form (slaggin', sloggin', fraggin', freagin') more than I probably should. Here's some links you might find interesting: http: // transformers .wikia. com /wiki /Slag_ (slang) , http :// .org /wiki/ Frag_ (military) . Basically, anywhere that fucking or fucker and shit or shitting ("you shitting me?!?") can be used – I've seen other authors before me replacing it with these terms, so I followed suit._

_See, some authors DO read reviews and think about constructive concrit!_

_Now, let's get back to the story… Shall we?_

_-------_

**Living a Lie**

"How's Yellow doing today?" T'ran asked Droct. She was concerned about the yellow mech. He'd been acting differently ever since they got back from their trip to the mines.

Droct shrugged, motioning to his shack. "Well, he's fixed the door hinge, patched all the walls as best he can, and used the left over yellow paint to put a coat on the place. Been a busy bee every night," he answered. He didn't know if he should be concerned, or if this was the mech's normal energy level – now that he was almost completely repaired.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," T'ran said as she put her hands on her hips. She looked over the expansive landfill, seeing the yellow form trucking along, looking for recyclables all by himself. He'd become so manically hyper, that he wasn't even waiting for the two siblings to reactivate, before rushing out to do his work. And then the little mech wouldn't even slow down and relax when he was done. He'd find something to do at Droct's shack, and continue working until he just about fell over in exhaustion.

Droct sighed; his nosy sister was good at spotting things about a mech's relationship. "Well, he's been so busy we just haven't had time," he said dismissively.

T'ran's optics locked with her brothers. Considering the fact that before they went to the mines the little fragger couldn't seem to keep his hands off Droct – and now he didn't seem to have time to do that… Something was really bothering the mech. And she suspected that it had something to do with Droct's past. She just couldn't fathom what it was.

"Well, we get the new vocal processing unit in today. Maybe that's what has got him so hyped up," she said. Looking at her brother she realized that he wasn't seeing what she was. He was just seeing a high energy mech that seemed to want to fix up Droct's entire lifestyle. So she wasn't about to say anything, until she figured out what was bothering the yellow mech.

----

Bumblebee drove around the dump looking for recyclables. He didn't want the company of his two friends, because he needed this time alone to think. And hell, did he have a lot to think about!

He loved a mech, who's entire life had been destroyed by the Autobots. Just that simple fact made it hard to face Droct. And it was ripping his spark apart just to think about it. He'd kept himself busy doing stuff, not because he didn't want to bond with the mech. But because every time he looked, or touched, the mech's deformed body – he knew that the Autobots were to blame for it. The guilt was tearing him apart at the seams.

And now, today, he'd be able to speak. All those wonderful lines about being an Autobot and getting Droct hired on, that he'd practiced in his mind for all these months - Now seemed arrogant and pointless. What was an Autobot other than a blind mech that lived unawares of all the other mech groups' pain and suffering? Yes, the Autobots thought they were righteous and good – but were they really? How many other Drocts were out there that they had unknowingly hurt and maimed?

Bee's shoulders drooped in shame. The Autobots didn't know what it was REALLY like to live and struggle day-to-day. They didn't know or appreciate the true sweetness of mid-grade energon, or a day of no work, or the simple joy of helping another mech when you had nothing to offer but love. These simple things were beyond the Autobots' comprehension.

If Droct knew what he was, would he ever want to kiss Bee again? Would he storm angrily out of his shack, rightfully blaming Bee for much of his pathetic life? Bee was sure that the mech might never want Autobot hands to touch him. To try and repair the damage they'd done. For they'd never shown any concern before - for mechs caught in the middle! Hell, even old Ironhide was always spouting that 'mechs that support cons, get what they deserve' after any of them got caught in the middle of a battle.

No, Bee couldn't tell Droct that he was an Autobot. But he knew T'ran's sharp meta had figured out that something had been bothering him. And knowing her, she'd already figured out that it had something to do with her story. Also, how would he explain just why the cons had captured and tortured him?

Kicking a piece of refuse, Bee watched it careen crazily in the breeze. His life seemed to be like that right now, careening with no direction. But he had to think of something. He had sworn never to leave Droct hadn't he? He loved the mech. So just how far would he go to stay with Droct?

----

Bumblebee lay quietly on the bunk, his access panel right under his neck open. Droct and T'ran worked together, trying to properly install the intricate processing unit. Starscream had ripped out the main processing unit, but not the actual vocal simulator – so Bumblebee knew he'd have his old voice back soon. In a sense, he knew he should be elated with joy. For he was going to finally be whole again! But the heaviness in his core reminded him of his decision. And it was a decision he'd never in a million cycles think he'd freely choose. But it was the only right decision, wasn't it? The only way to repay Droct back for everything he'd given Bee – and everything the Autobots had taken from him.

Smiling at each other, the two garbage mechs nodded that they were done. Closing the access panel, Droct patted him gently on his chest. His optics shined with the satisfaction of finally making the yellow mech whole again.

Sitting up, Bee forced the heavy feeling from his core. He had made his decision, hadn't he? Knew what he had to say. So, forcing a warm smile to cross his face, Bumblebee looked at his two friends. "Thanks guys, I owe you big time;" he said. He forced a cheery tone to enter his voice, for he'd made his decision. He'd found a way to stay with Droct.

The heaviness tried to creep back into his core, but he fought it down again, since he'd decided to leave his old life behind. But he owed the garbage mech so much, the Autobots owed the mech so much – he knew that Optimus would understand. Even if he never knew what had happened to Bumblebee.

T'ran studied him, "well, we figured you're neither a Con nor a garbage mech. So what are you, Yellow?" she asked. Her optics watched him intently.

He grinned as the weight finally lifted off his chest. He was no longer an Autobot; he was Droct's bond mate. His decision was now set in stone. "Name's Bee, I was a courier mech."

T'ran crossed her arms, sensing that the yellow mech was hiding something. Thinking about his odd change in behavior after learning about Droct's accident, and the fact that the Decepticons had obviously captured and tortured him for some time – she just knew he had some connection to the Autobots. And by golly, she was going to make him admit it. "So why did the Seekers find you so interesting Bee? Who'd you work for?"

Bee gulped, but he had anticipated the sharp femme's questions. That's why he'd decided that being a courier mech was the best way to explain things – without admitting that he had actually been an Autobot. "Well, I was working for the Autobots when they caught me." He looked down on the ground. He'd said the partial lie. He'd actually managed to say it… He'd admitted some connection to the faction that had done this to Droct. But would they accept it? Would they accept him now? The guilt ran through him, but he knew it was the only way. The only way Droct would let him stay.

Droct and T'ran looked at each other, thinking his expression of guilt was because he knew they didn't like the Autobots and he had once worked for them. It did make perfect sense for a courier to be working for one faction or the other. And the opposing faction would indeed try and catch the courier. To torture him to find out information about the other side, it was a highly dangerous profession to be sure. No wonder Bee was so tough!

Droct looked up at Bee, hesitation in his optics. Couriers had exciting lives, they traveled throughout the Galaxy. They generally made a good living. So how could he expect Bee to now want to stay with him? And he was no brave mech; he couldn't very well follow the courier mech all over the Galaxy. He'd end up getting them both off lined. "Do you want to go back? Be a courier again?" he asked.

Glancing from T'ran to Droct, Bee felt relief flood through his core. They'd believed everything he'd said. And it didn't seem to bother them that he'd been employed by the Autobots. Droct was afraid he'd want to leave, want to go back to the exciting life of a courier. "Well, after what happened when I got caught. I don't know if I want to go back," he answered. At least most of it was the truth.

T'ran got a big smile on her face as she understood what the yellow mech was implying. He seemed to want to stay. He didn't want to face those Seekers again. Elbowing her brother in his side, she winked at him. "I think he's trying to say, that he wants to be a garbage mech," she whispered. Glancing at Bee's smile, she knew she was on the right track.

An amazed smile crossed Droct's face. For the gorgeous courier mech wanted to give up all that wealth and excitement – for him!

----

_Meanwhile, back on Cybertron other mechs are also trying to live a lie…._

_------_

"You two on the rocks?" Prowl politely asked. He kept his back turned to the fire engine, not wanting him to see his face plate. The hope that must be written there for all to see….

"What are you talking about?" Inferno asked. Brushing his arm against the tactical officer, he hefted the coiled hose back onto its proper rack.

He knew exactly what he was referring to. Prowl was positive of it! Narrowing his optics slightly, he tapped on the touch screen on his pad, logging in the inventory. 'Helping' Red Alert with this tedious task had been a good excuse to get closer to the fire engine. "The entire base is talking about a certain fire engine being blasted across a shuttle pad by his own hose," he replied in a level tone.

Inferno glanced at the officer, knowing instinctively that he was trying to bust them for their act. They'd probably get thrown back into the psych ward for it. So he wasn't about to let the façade slip! Chuckling as he coiled and put up another hose, Inferno acted as if it was nothing. "New fire fighters always get mad at the hose. It's a hard thing to learn to control," he explained. Sliding the coiled hose onto its rack, he dared to slap the officer on his rump. A smirk crossing his face plate as the stoic mech jumped in surprise.

"What was the meaning of that action?" Prowl said as he leveled a rather suspicious gaze on him.

"He, he, why don't you come out for training tomorrow Prowl? I'd love to see if you could keep your cool under the pressure of a hose," Inferno chuckled. The challenge was plain to hear.

"Hmmmm, maybe I will." His optics gleamed at the challenge - and the chance to get closer to Ironhide for a time so that he could really study the interaction between the pair.

"You all dry now buddy?" a familiar voice teased.

They turned in synch, just as the van walked in the storage room. Ironhide's optics widened in surprise as he saw Prowl standing next to Inferno… What in the blazes had they been doing?!?

Seamlessly, Inferno took the opportunity to get Ironhide back for the rather public lick – as well as to convince Prowl that they were indeed a 'pair'. "Just the mech I needed to find," he growled in a low tone. Before Ironhide could react, Inferno had grabbed him and pushed him up against the door frame.

Struggling slightly, the van grunted as his peds waved helplessly in the air. "What the?"

"So, you want it rough huh? Thought you had enough of me last night!" Inferno snarled. His lips pressed hard against Ironhide's, his glossa slipping into the shocked mech's mouth. He let his hands dance over the smaller mech's chassis… Controlling… Commanding….

Slightly surprised at the public display of affection, Prowl's jaw dropped and he stood there for a moment. Finally collecting himself enough to regain his composure, he turned his back to the pair making out in the doorway and started logging in the rest of the fire suppressant equipment. "If you two don't mind – take it to your quarters. Some of us have work to do!" His voice was cold as ice. The mech fighting to keep his composure as he listened to Ironhide's muffled vocalizations. HE wanted to be causing those sounds!!

Wrapping his arms around Ironhide, effectively trapping the van's arms to his sides, Inferno carried him out, their lips still tightly locked together. He walked a ways down the corridor, making sure that they were out of sight and hearing range of the tactician. Only then did he set his room mate down.

"Ya Primus-damned piece of slag!" Ironhide bellowed as he spit down on the ground. Again and again he spit – trying to get rid of the taste of another MECH on his glossa. "Why in the frag did ya have to open-mouth kiss me?!? Sheesh! DISGUSTING!"

Inferno grinned and smacked him on his aft. "To keep your big mouth shut! That's why. Do you want them to know what's really going on, hmmmm?"

"So the 'ol cop is playin' detective huh?" He was still spitting even while he asked. The sensation of Inferno's glossa in HIS mouth was simply – GROSS!

"Yeah pretty much. He was drilling me about our little spat on the shuttle pad. Real suspicious little fraggart – isn't he?" Pulling a small vile of super grade from his subspace, Inferno took a sip and swirled it in his mouth for a moment - Completely removing the taste of Ironhide from his palate.

"Gimme some o' that," Ironhide demanded. Grabbing it from his room mate, he took a swig in order to clean the taste out of his mouth. Swallowing it down, he handed the empty vile back to Inferno. "Yeah, guy thinks everyone's guilty of breaking some protocol or somethin'. He's such a prick."

"Can't believe he survived having you as his partner," Inferno teased.

"Yeah, my aim wasn't very good that day. Be better next time," Ironhide snickered.

"What aim?" Jazz asked. The mech stopped, looking at them innocently.

The van smirked, knowing exactly how to play this act out for a youngster like Jazz. "My aim with my plug. Prowl likes it in public you know. Right up the tail pipes!"

Jazz's mouth fell open. "You mean… uh… you and… uh… Prowl?"

"Naw, wasn't fast enough that day cycle," Ironhide snickered. He slid his arm across Jazz's shoulder armor. "But ya know, Prowl secretly likes it in public," he whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

"Really? But, uh, he said that's against protocol!" the young mech stammered.

"He just doesn't want anyone to know, that's all. Kind've shy 'bout his needs and all." Ironhide gave Inferno a wink.

Inferno put his arm over the other side of the youngster, having a pretty good idea about what Ironhide was planning. "You know, Prowl's in the fire suppressant supply closet…."

"I bet he'd be absolutely THRILLED if ya rushed in an took him hard and furious!" Ironhide finished.

"R-really?" Jazz's visor lit up. Shrugging off the older mechs arms, he ran down the hall towards the storage room.

"By the way, Prowl's supposed to train with us tomorrow," Inferno said, his smirk getting wider.

"Mech's gonna be walkin' funny – I'd say!" the van snickered.

"You know, I could almost kiss you again. That was so slick…."

"Don't even think 'bout it!" Ironside warned with a haphazard smile. The pair joined hands as they strolled down the hall. Both of them enjoyed the fact that they had truly pulled the screws right over the sharp cop's optics!

----

"Inferno?" Prowl said as he heard peds coming into the room. "Uggggghhhh!! What the slag!?!" he sputtered as he was suddenly slammed forward, his torso falling across the counter with a sharp clang. A hand clamped over his mouth as another hand clamped his own handcuffs across his wrist servos.

"Shhhhh, Prowl – or they'll catch us!" Jazz whispered. He slid his free hand down Prowl's armored aft, unlatching his codpiece.

Prowl struggled against him, but his legs were rather rudely forced apart. _What in the hell was Jazz doing?!? He KNEW that this was against protocol! _A digit was forced into his unready plug, causing him to gasp in surprise. He wasn't used to his young boyfriend being this dominant…. This insistent… His screams for him to stop this atrocious rule breaking went muffled and unheard….

He tried to force his legs closed, but Jazz was unfazed. The visored mech slammed them hard against the solid side of the counter. He locked them tightly against it with his own legs. "Ah, you DO like this!" he whispered.

Shaking his head, Prowl tried to stop his systems from reacting. They defied him! His port filling with lube as the younger mech worked his digit in-and-out. His chassis trembled as the eager mech forced another digit into the tight space…

"What's up Jazz? Oh – WOWWWWW!" Bluestreak's optics got huge as he walked in and saw the tactical officer bent over and handcuffed with his own cuffs! Sliding in, he shut the door behind him. "Never thought I'd see him like this!" he snickered to his best friend.

"He LOVES it! But I can't keep him quiet!" Jazz pumped his two digits in and out of the trembling mech, his other hand still locked over his mouth. The lube was so thick now; it was dripping down on the floor between Prowl's spread legs! He was so getting turned on!

"I've got something to fix that," Bluestreak offered. Whipping a roll of duct tape from his subspace, he quickly fixed it so that Prowl couldn't make much noise. His hands wandered along the officer's bent over frame. He had to admit, his bud had managed to catch a heck of a good looking mech!

Plopping himself up next to Prowl on the counter, Bluestreak stroked his trembling door wing as his old academy buddy lapped at the mech's dripping port. Damn this was hot! Activating his cable, he began to stroke himself as he more than enjoyed the show.

"You want to join us?" Jazz offered. He and Blue had had some serious fun together back at the academy. It'd be fun to share again. He gave that wonderful port one more lick, then he stood up and began to push his plug slowly inside.

"Sure buddy. What'cha want me to do?" There was no way that Bluestreak would ever say no to an offer like this.

"Mmmmm, just sit there for a bit." Bending down, Jazz made Bluestreak gasp as he took over for his hand – with his glossa.

For a long time they stayed like this. Prowl overloading and then coming back online several times, but still Jazz wasn't finished. He listened to the young mech moaning next to him, amazed at the sheer staying power of his young boyfriend. His port ached with heat now…. The friction of the continual thrusting of that shaft within him – was more than he could handle! Once again, he overloaded.

"Here, help me lift him up," Jazz said as he pulled out of the now-limp mech. He turned him around so that he faced him, then lifted him up off the counter.

"He, he, - He ain't got much staying power – does he?" Bluestreak snickered mischievously. He lifted the limp officer onto his lap, trembling slightly as his friend's digits curled around his ready shaft, guiding him inside the ready port.

"Nope. But this is the first time I've slagged HIM. He usually slags ME," Jazz explained. He watched as his friend's shaft disappeared within Prowl. Primus that was hot to watch!

Prowl's optics slowly lit up, his entire chassis humming and tingling. The incredible sensations of friction in his port washing over him immediately… But his dazed optics widened in surprise as he realized that it was the other young mech now slagging him hard. His boyfriend was standing between his legs, his hand stroking his plug as he watched.

Jazz grinned as he ripped the duct tape off his lip components, smashing his mouth down over his in a rough commanding kiss. He slid a digit in next to Blue's plug, stretching Prowl more.

Prowl screamed into his mouth, his chassis arching at the intensity of the sensation. Helpless to stop them, he became nothing but a squirming mass of jello as another digit was added to the first…

"Here, use some of this," Bluestreak told his friend. Jazz held up his digits, allowing him to coat them with a strange lube.

"Wow, that's wild!" Jazz declared. His digits now felt all hot and tingly.

Prowl was beyond words right now, his lips freed, he bit down on the nearest object – which happened to be Jazz's hood. He grunted with every wonderful thrust…

"Yep, put it in him," Blue told him.

Grinning, Jazz took Prowl's lips again as his digits slid back in. The mech arched violently against them as his sensors reacted to the new stimulant lube. "Wow, that's so cool!" he exclaimed in between passionate kisses.

"You can get in now," Blue said as he stopped his thrusts.

Prowl screamed into Jazz's mouth as a second thick shaft slid in next to the first. Spreading his legs as far as he could, he shuddered as his port was stretched painfully… But the stimulate lube sensitized his internal sensors into accepting the pain signal as pleasure… A pleasure sensation so strong – it washed over him like an unstoppable missile. His optics rolled back into his face plate as he bucked against them… Then he went still – in his sixth overload in a row…

The two young mechs smirked mischievously and began to pump into the still mech with renewed vigor. It didn't take long before they also went limp in overload…

Prowl reactivated many astrohours later. He was lying on his own berth…. Had it all been a dream echo? He wondered. But the ache in his overused port, and the tingling sensations still echoing through his sensory grids - told a different story. He groaned as he rolled over and checked the time.

Slag it! He had over-defragged by almost a quarter shift!

----

_Sorry, mind went straight to the gutter as I wrote the Cybertronian section….. Review if you enjoyed!_


	18. Mr Popularity

**Mr Popularity**

"So you've really been to Terros 3?" Z'ren asked incredulously. Her big blue optics widened in excitement, for she'd never met any mech that had been there.

Bumblebee grinned and nodded. Ever since the rumor about him having once been a courier mech had run across the landfill; those private card games with Droct – were no longer private anymore. It seemed like every femme in the community found a reason to walk by their shack and plop themselves down to talk, while Droct dealt another hand. Unlike the male mechs, who still judged Droct, and would only treat him civilly because of the yellow mech by his side – the femmes seemed to be able to ignore his deformities. Well, at least when there was an exciting ex-courier to talk to.

"So what's it like?" S'taq asked. She leaned forward; as if afraid she'd miss even one word of his description. Her red and pink helm; glinted dully in the moonlight.

"It's pretty nice. There's lots of vegetation and water and stuff. Their cities are actually built on floating platforms," he described. His optics glimmered as he remembered that planet. Granted, the Autobots had gone there to chase the cons off – but no one needed to know just WHY he'd been there.

Droct smiled shyly as he dealt another hand to the gathered mechs. Although he wasn't used to this type of company, he found that he did enjoy it. It didn't bother him in the least that everyone was here because of Bee. At least they included him, and didn't insult him with words or optics. The warmth of love spread through him as he looked at the yellow mech. For he knew the mech had given everything up for him.

Bee picked up his hand, grinning as he saw a straight ten. Smiling at the two femmes, he pushed a few more chips in on his bet. The moonlight glinted off his bright helm, refracting the waves in crazy patterns. In many ways, he still seemed very out-of-place amongst the duller painted garbage mechs. But around the brighter color dancers, he seemed to fit right in. His easy going nature and nonjudgmental demeanor made him a true magnet for the 'femmes of the night.'

"So they really float? Like the stories say?" Z'ren asked. She didn't know much about this card game, so she leaned over to S'taq to ask if she should hold or fold. The two femmes discussed this briefly, and then Z'ren pushed a few more chips in.

Remembering how the Autobots had had to take cover underneath the floating platform, Bee cringed slightly. Yep, he knew that those cities most definitely floated. He could still feel the sting of the salt water in his linkages. Especially through the holes that the cons had blown through his armor during that particular fight. "Sure do, I, um, accidentally fell over the side once," he said. It was starting to get easier to say these half-truths. He didn't feel so 'dirty' afterward anymore. Guess he was getting used to it.

Droct quietly folded his hand, and waited for the others to play theirs. His soft blue optics watching the group in happiness, for he'd never thought he'd ever have 'company' at his old shack.

Nodding to the quiet mech, S'taq laughed and tossed her hand down. "I got a full house! Beat it!" she challenged. Leaning back against the side of the bright yellow shack, she stretched in victory. Her big optics studied their reactions to her hand, her normal confident smile spreading wide.

Predictably, Bee and Z'ren groaned and folded. Very used to the red femme's notorious winning streaks. More often than not, she ended up with the measly pile of chips. But at least she was fun to hang out with!

Shifting a little, Bee leaned into Droct and smiled at the two femmes. "I'm out, how 'bout you Droct?" he asked. Leaning his head back, he looked comically at his friend.

Droct chuckled and sheepishly looked up at the two femmes. "If he's out, I'm out," he said softly. He felt Bee's engine purr in contentment against him.

The two femmes giggled and winked at each other, for the male pair normally ended their poker games this way. S'taq stood up and held her hand out to Z'ren. "I hear there's a dance competition going on tonight. On the east side," she said to her femme friend.

S'taq chuckled and looked seductively at the two males. "Perhaps you two should show up at one of these some time? Maybe we could change your minds about femmes?" she taunted in her most seductive voice.

Bumblebee and Droct both blushed at her forwardness, even though they both knew that the two femmes had no interest in males – other than to tease the credits out of their hands. True, these femmes weren't the most upstanding citizens – but they did what they had too to survive. And they did treat their friends with respect and loyalty. So they enjoyed hanging out with the dancers.

"Hey Z'ren – are you two coming or not?" another female voice asked. A group of femmes approached the shack, all of them polished and ready to try and win some credits. Several of them nodded at Bumblebee, for he'd become quite popular amongst them. For he was 'exotic' and had fascinating stories of far-away places, to top it off – he had no interest in any of them, other than friendship. So these dancers were really attracted to him as a friend.

Giggling, Z'ren and S'taq joined with the group. And after a few more lighthearted jokes about getting the male pair to join them, they took off towards the metropolis.

----

Leaning his head in Droct's lap, Bee sighed happily. He was building friendships amongst many of the garbage mechs, and living happily with his bond mate. What else would a mech want out of life?

Shuffling the cards one last time, Droct put them back in their case and slid them in his glove box. Lying one of his hands across the yellow mech's chest plates, he leaded back against the side of his freshly painted shack. His engine slowed to a low idle as he enjoyed the simple pleasure of just holding his bonded.

"Its pretty at night," Bee said softly. His optics scanned the silent land fill. In the darkness it just looked like a bunch of rolling hills. He could even picture the place covered in trees or something. A very warm and peaceful setting indeed; well, as long as you turned off your olfactory sensors.

Droct nodded, "Its peaceful, that's what makes it beautiful." His optics were drawn up to the stars. Those immense distances that his bond mate once traveled; he couldn't even imagine that type of life. "So, do you ever miss it Bee?" he asked softly. He was still blown away that the yellow mech had chosen him over those stars.

The yellow mech's thoughts wandered. He could imagine Wheeljack working frantically on yet another invention. Then Ratchet strolled in and pointed out a single set of crossed wires; the two of them laughing about it as they kissed. A warm feeling spread through him as he remembered so many other humorous occurrences back in the Autobot ranks. That crazy prankster, Sideswipe – who had once gotten every Autobot at the same time, when he'd dyed an entire batch of energon. Yes, it'd been a lot of fun back then. In between the violence and fighting, but that war always dominated their thoughts – for it was never far away.

But now it was far away! With the exception of occasional visits by the Decepticons for supplies and materials – this rock of a planet was left out of it. Too far out of the main trading routes to ever become a major Galactic player, so it's mech inhabitants could actually live in relative 'peace'. And even though they tended to be the poorest of the poor, they were happy it seemed.

Looking up at his friend, he decided not to lie this time. "Yes, I miss it. But leaving it behind was the best thing I've ever done." He smiled up at Droct, wanting the mech to really understand that he'd never leave him. The stars silhouetted his friend's misshapen helm, his distorted and uneven shoulders; His one door wing protruded haphazardly from his back. But Bee didn't see him for the ugly and deformed mech that he was – he saw the beauty of his spark. Yes, all these orbit cycles that Bumblebee had lived as simply 'Bee' were worth everything he had left!

Pulling his optics away from the stars, Droct looked down at Bee. "You know, before T'ran left to move in with M'ron, she told me that you were a heck of a mech. And she was right." His engine temperature warmed with his emotions. Though he missed his sister, he knew she had waited a long time before moving in with M'ron. She had waited, because she hadn't wanted Droct to be forced to live alone. Bee had been truly sent by Primus, for he not only stayed by Droct's side – he'd started to cause the other garbage mechs to show a little civility towards the mech. Several times, he'd even gotten into scraps over other mech's derogatory comments. And though he was the same size as the garbage mechs, he obviously had had a lot more practice in fighting.

Droct remembered the last time Bee had 'come home' from doing business with the recyclers. He'd been accosted by a group of the garbage mechs. Who were all mad at the 'outsider' for the femmes' interest in him, not to mention the fact that he'd previously beat the hell out of two of them for making lewd comments pertaining to his relationship with Droct. The group hoped that together they could teach the ex-courier a lesson. But it hadn't worked quite like they'd planned. For even as Bee began to kick and punch to defend himself – a bunch of the dancers had seen what was going on.

Chuckling, Droct remembered his shock when he drove up to the chaos, only to see five dancers helping Bee to whip the hell out of the group of mechs. He'd considered jumping in, but it was so freagin' hysterical to watch the femme's kicking aft – that he couldn't stop laughing. Yes, Bee had truly become something of a celebrity around the land fill. And the garbage mechs had quickly learned to keep their vocals shut off when he was in audio range.

Bee smiled up at Droct. Warmth radiating up from his power core and flooding his systems. For he'd finally found everything he'd ever wanted. Love, companionship and acceptance – and even though he was living a partial lie to keep it… It was worth everything he'd given up! Forcing his memories of being an Autobot back into the deepest recesses of his mind – he prayed he'd never be 'found'.

---

_Back on Cybertron – other mechs have found a new-found popularity as well!_

_---_

Optimus glanced up as a familiar shape walked by the open door of his office. "Prowl? Come here for a second," he yelled.

Prowl cringed as he heard the order. He'd been hopeful that no one would notice his tardiness. Those hopes were now soundly dashed to the pavement and run over by semi tires it seemed. Grinding his dental plates together, he turned on the back edge of his peds and strode into the commander's office. "Yes sir?"

Boy, he sure looked horrible! Optimus thought to himself as he looked the stalwart officer over. Perhaps he'd been involved in a wreck the night before? That would explain his unusual tardiness. His original question now forgotten, he stood up, reached over and steadied the smaller mech. "You should not have come in," he said in a tone filled with the deepest of concern. "Go on and report to Ratchet, I'll get Ultra Magnus to cover your shift."

"I'm fine Prime," Prowl stated in a dry voice as he tried to pull his arm from the big mech's grasp.

"No, no I insist! You need repairs." Optimus tightened his grip on the officer. Prowl was notorious for ignoring his own needs – for the sake of performing his duties.

"Optimus, you needed me?" Ultra Magnus queried, poking his helm inside the open door. He'd been just down the hall when he'd gotten the brief radioed message from him, sensing the urgency, he'd come as quickly as he could.

Prime hefted the smaller mech into his arms, assuming that Prowl might be so damaged that he might have a problem making it on his own. It wouldn't be the first time he'd tried to hide that kind of damage. "I'm 'escorting' Prowl to the infirmary; hold down the fort until we return."

Ultra Magnus glanced at the very unhappy mech in Prime's arms. "No problem Prime," he replied with a nod and left to take his post.

"Prime, I'm telling you – I'm FINE!" Prowl muttered as he was rather unceremoniously hauled down the corridor.

"Look at yourself Prowl. You're a mess. What happened?" the big mech said as he continued to carry his friend towards the medical buildings.

"Akkkk! Just let me down and I'll tell you!" The cop was flustered past being flustered. His face plate now so hot that he just knew everyone within a click could see his emotional discomfort.

Optimus stopped and gently set the mech down on his peds. He stood there expectantly waiting for the explanation.

For the first time in his life, Prowl fidgeted nervously. Actually FIDGETED! His optics locked down on his peds in total embarrassment. "Um, let's just say that Jazz got a little 'creative' last shift," he said evasively.

Cocking his helm, Prime looked at him in frank amazement. "I thought YOU were in control of your relationship with the ensign." He was well aware of Prowl's 'secret' relations; the ever proper mech had actually come to him and asked permission to date an enlisted man prior to dating him. Not many mechs knew about it other than them. Prowl was notoriously tight-lipped about anything personal.

Prowl sighed in exacerbation, "So did I Prime… So did I.." He was sure going to find out WHO had put the idea in Jazz's little meta in the first place. Afterwards, he was going to make sure that the young mech KNEW it was not acceptable – and having 'friends join in' was beyond unacceptable! Primus, his port still freagin' tingled. When was that damned lubricant effect going to wear off anyway????

Optimus's optics softened in understanding and he gave the mech a comradely pat on his shoulder armor. "Never know when our better halves will get a strange idea in their meta." He smiled down at the mech and winked. "Just don't EVER give them a pair of your handcuffs though." His expression said the rest. Apparently Elita had done that once or twice on him.

Prowl's face plate heated up even more, and he looked swiftly down at his peds.

"Slag, he DID get hold of them didn't he?" A knowing chuckle rolled through the big mech.

Before Prowl could reply, a group of enlisted mechs trotted by them…. Seeing the pair, they all stopped as one, their optics HUGE.

"Slag – him?!?" one asked in disbelief.

"No freagin' way! He's an officer!" another snorted.

"No, I'm serious! We did!" A familiar gray mech smiled at Prowl. "Tell 'em Prowl. Tell 'em how much you liked me."

Prowl wanted to crawl under the pavement right about now. He narrowed his optics at Bluestreak – not believing that the youngster was already running around telling EVERYONE about last shift. But that wasn't his biggest problem; Optimus was now looking from him – to the young mech – and back again. If Prowl was a lesser controlled mech – he would've either given Bluestreak a fist sandwich and/or transformed and zoomed out of there as fast as his wheels could spin!

But this was Prowl, and he didn't lose control like that. Well, at least not that bad. He figured that he'd get the big mouthed braggart of a youngster where it hurt. "Can't remember, five strokes doesn't leave much of an impression on a mech," he snorted.

This caused Bluestreak's companions to roar in laughter at his expense. The gray mech's mouth hung slack in shock as he was dragged away to training by his comrades. His face plate hot and burning in embarrassment….

"TWO?!?" Optimus turned his optics to Prowl in total surprise. "Is there anything else about your off-shift experience that I need to be aware of – before another mech tells me?"

With a resigned sigh, Prowl nodded. "Yes sir."

Optimus crossed his arms and waited for the next shocker. He'd never expected this kind of thing from the rather predictable and boring officer. Tracks, Blaster, Sideswipe, even Wheeljack – yes; but never Prowl!

"We did it in storage unit 30-124," Prowl reported in the tone he used to report on shift-to-shift Decepticon activity.

Prime rolled his optics. "I don't need to inform you that that was completely against protocol."

"Affirmative Prime, it was not my idea and I was unable to stop the incident from occurring," he answered. Ok, this WAS the worst case scenario. The head honcho of the Autobots now knew of his incursion. His reputation was now ruined!

"Do you wish to explain that to me – or is it better that I don't know?"

"I'd rather not go there Prime," Prowl admitted. He met Optimus's optics, his own full of honesty. "And it will never occur again – I can assure you."

The red mech studied the officer. He trusted Prowl with his life, and had no doubt that what he said about not being exactly 'a willing participant' in the act which broke protocol. "Well, make sure that it doesn't. Go deal with your personal business now," he said and walked away.

Prowl fumed as he marched towards Jazz's quarters. He was going to get to the bottom of this – and helms were going to roll!

------

Please review..


	19. A Mech in Need

**A Mech in Need**

"Well, well, the little slogger's still got some fight!" Starscream snarled as he smashed the small mech's cranial unit into the bulkhead again. The warm feeling of the freshly spilt energon flowing over his digits caused an excited urge to jump from his core.

Cliffjumper slumped to the ground, fresh agony shooting through him. His naked circuitry no longer had any protection from the abuse. They'd already ripped most of his armor off what seemed like orbit cycles ago, and had left him with only a few remaining shreds. Just like his dignity. He still had his burning anger though. A fire that kept him fighting… Kept his pumps flowing with energon.. Spitting out some fresh energon he merely grunted a weak "frag you!" as his tail pipes slammed down on the hard surface. He hadn't the energy to do much more than that.

Con after con had raped him and beaten him, enjoying his pain as if it was some kind of sick foreplay or something. And when they weren't physically torturing him, they had fun with mental torture. For all around his cell, were pieces of one of his friend's armor…

That was the worse part of all this. Looking up at those bright yellow armor plates, and remembering the cheerful yellow mech they'd once been part of. Yes, it'd been several orbit cycles before Cliffjumper's own capture, since Bumblebee had disappeared. And the Autobots had always feared the worse. Now, facing his own life of torture and eventual deactivation, the little red mech had silently stared up at the remnants of his dead friend, and sobbed. Not for himself, but for the fact that little Bumblebee had had to endure this same agony until he'd finally been off lined. The yellow mech had been such a gentle, happy character – he hadn't deserved that!

Starscream grabbed him by his throat and slammed him against the wall again. "So are you going to beg like your miniscule yellow friend did? Beg for me to take you fast and to get it over with? Beg, you pathetic Autobot – beg!" the red Seeker shrieked. Pressing his air frame against the smaller mech, the red Seeker took his lips roughly. Hitting him repeatedly in his raw circuits on his abdomen until Cliffjumper finally opened his mouth to gasp. Starscream's glossa invaded, taking over, probing – even as the Autobot's lips bled from the roughness of the kiss.

Cliffjumper gagged, trying desperately to close his jaws. To keep the Seeker out! But the force of Starscream's jaws against his; locked them open. Thus, the con could keep up his invasion, his domination. Just as his fiery spark would when he raped the small mech again. The Autobot could feel the terrifying pulse of that Seeker's vicious spark against the red fuselage. Only the thin metal kept it from penetrating his bare circuits, right then and there. His own spark beat furiously as he sought to deny this eventuality… Deny that he had no control.. No chance to stop it..

As he controlled the Autobot's lips, Starscream's digits dug into his naked circuits. Probing and twisting; causing bolts of fresh agony to shoot through the smaller mech. As he felt the smaller mech writhe from the waves of pain, the Seeker felt the satisfaction of domination roll through him. Forcing his leg in between the smaller mech's, he forced Cliffjumper to spread his. The naked mech tensed as his most sensitive arrays were pressed hard against Starscream's latched codpiece. His reaction only made it that much more pleasurable for the red Seeker. For this was the only time the Air Commander had control of another mech.. The only time he could vent his internal fury at his own submission to Megatron! Finally, Starscream let loose of those lips – punching Cliffjumper hard in the face plate as he did so.

"Eat slag," Cliffjumper whispered; his hoarse voice barely audible. He spit the energon from his mouth, willing himself to boldly meet the Seeker's optics. He wasn't going to give the slogger any satisfaction. Even if it meant another two astro-hours of torture before the piece of slag finally raped him again and was done with it.

The Seeker threw him across the cell, enraged that the little mech still showed no fear. He grinned with pleasure as he heard the mech groan while he slid to the floor again. "You know what you little rust bucket? I've got a fun game you might like." With that he grabbed the barely conscious little mech and threw him over his shoulder. "We're going to see just how many times a pathetic Autobot can bond in a single night. I'm sure you'll find it enjoyable."

Too weak to fight, Cliffjumper's core sunk in despair as the tall Seeker carried him into the rec area of the Decepticon ship. He was thrown on the ground as Starscream made a bet with Swindle on just how much rape he could take. As the Decepticons all placed their bets, the Autobot dared to lift his head and look around. Terror shot through him, as the red optics of two dozen cons looked back. Trying to bury his face into the ground, Cliffjumper gulped his fear down. He couldn't let these bastards see how terrified he was, he couldn't give them that satisfaction!

The bets were all in. Swindle grabbed the little mech and picked him up. Throwing him face down on a table, the mech forced him to stand bent over against it. Cliffjumper had no choice, for now Swindle sat on his shoulders, holding him down tightly to the table. The Combaticon snickering as he considered the profits he was sure to make.

Hearing the first Decepticon unlatching their codpiece, Cliffjumper tensed as the circuits were forced deeply into his….

------

"These pathetic Autobots just don't last very long do they?" Vortex griped as they dragged the barely functioning mech out of the ship.

Brawl snorted, he'd enjoyed winning on that bet about the Autobot handling multiple rapes. He'd been a little surprised that it'd taken eighteen forced spark bondings before the bot totally shut down. He grinned at the memory of the stubborn little mech finally starting to beg and scream for them to stop at number twelve. That'd just made the cons even more eager to thrust their circuits into him. He finally shut up after 4 more, and then stopped whimpering after the next one. By number eighteen, he was unresponsive. Granted that had been eight cycles ago; and the damned mech hadn't revived. So the game had pretty much off lined him. Oh well, what else were Autobots good for?

"Well, into the dump for another one. Just like the last freagin' slogger," Vortex snickered. He casually picked up the limp, naked mech and decided to see how far over the cliff he could toss him.

Before he did that, Brawl stopped him. Glaring at his fellow Combaticon, Vortex was just about ready to throw the useless Autobot on the ground and take a swing at the con. But then Brawl snickered. Nodding to the front of the ship, his optics locked with Vortex's. "You know what, it'd be kind've interesting to see the Autobots' face plates when they face us in battle and we've got one of their dead strapped to the front of the ship."

An evil grin spread over Vortex's face. Yes, he could picture that in his meta – and it was such a sweet vision – he could almost taste it! For once, Brawl had come up with a highly entertaining idea. And they both knew that Megatron and Starscream would find it equally as entertaining. They might even get a compliment at their ingenuity.

"You got some straps?" Vortex asked. The evil gleam in his optics got even brighter.

Brawl nodded, "Got some tie-downs that should work." He snickered as he picked up the limp body. Most of the unconscious mech's armor was either gone or in shreds, but the armor bearing his Autobot insignia was still intact. Yep, the Autobots would definitely realize who the dead mech was. Probably put them in a state of shock, making it even easier to kick their tailpipes. Granted, the mech wasn't quite dead yet. But that was a mere technicality, for it wouldn't take much longer before he was.

Vortex hovered up along the front of the ship. "Toss me a strap," he called down to Brawl.

With his free arm, the big Combaticon tossed his comrade a strap. Working reasonably well together, they soon had their 'decoration' tied to the front fuselage of their ship. Standing back, both mechs snickered in satisfaction of their work.

They continued to snicker and insult each other as they went back into the con ship.

Now nothing but a 'decoration', Cliffjumper's optics reactivated slightly, he could feel the tightness of the straps that ran across him. The agony from their press against his raw and damaged circuitry caused him to briefly reactivate. But his primary programming was now so fragmented due to the string of multiple rapes, and con sparks flooding through his fallen firewalls – that multiple glitches caused his systems to begin a collapsing series. He shut down again as his protective default programs forced him too.

----

Bumblebee was one of the spotters this time. He felt proud that he could now poke his head out of the tunnels, and actually watch the Seekers without the panic attacks. Looking around, he realized that the cons didn't seem to be interested in playing target practice on this trip. They were busily loading materials and supplies.

Sighing, he knew that it could still be several planetary rotation cycles that they might remain. And the garbage mechs didn't dare come out of hiding until they left. Especially since the cons had landed their ship on the ridge overlooking the landfill. They did this to make dumping their refuse cheap and easy, since they could simply cart it out and dump it over the side of the ridge. A heavy feeling spread from his core, for once he had been some of that 'waste' that they had dumped.

Daring to look up at the ridge, Bumblebee's optics settled on the ship. It was a standard model, with plenty of armament and shielding to patrol the quadrant with little fear of destruction. It was painted the same non-descript gray that most con ships were, which made it easier to blend into asteroid belts when they decided to ambush Autobot cruisers. But then something caught his optics. Something red and out-of-place was on the front of the ship. Focusing his sharp optics, he brought the oddity into close-up.

His core sank into the deepest of depths when he realized that the cons had an almost naked Autobot strapped to the front of their ship! Watching the bot, he saw him lift his head for the briefest of moments. Those blue optics half-activated. Then the mech went limp again in shutdown. But that brief glimpse of his face tore through Bumblebee's networks. For he had recognized the Autobot, it was his old friend Cliffjumper!

Trembling in both rage and fear, Bumblebee lowered himself back into the safety of the tunnel. Sinking down to his knees, he put his head in his hands and sobbed. He knew that the only right thing to do was to try and rescue Cliffjumper. But Bumblebee was only one small, unarmed mech. And there was a very good chance he'd get caught. But could he live with himself if he didn't at least try?!? After all the times that the little red mech had saved his aft, he owed the mech at least that.

But what if he was successful in rescuing Cliffjumper? He wouldn't be able to hide the fact that the mech was an Autobot, for that was obvious by the little bit of armor that was still on the mech. And once Cliffjumper was repaired enough to talk – there's no way he'd hide the fact that he was a proud Autobot. Bee shuddered, for he'd never convince Cliffjumper not to say that he was also an Autobot. And then Droct might hate him. Might turn his back on him and tell him never to come around again.

His spark felt like it was being ripped in two. He knew what he had to do, and he knew that by doing it – he'd possibly lose the most important mech in his whole life! But he had to try and rescue his old friend, for he couldn't live with himself if he didn't.

Lost in his thoughts, the sobbing mech didn't hear the sound of another garbage mech crawling up from the tunnel's depths. The feel of a gentle hand squeezing his shoulder armor, brought him back to reality.

"What's wrong Bee? Did you have a panic attack?" Droct's concerned voice asked. His blue optics were filled with concern as he pulled the upset mech against his chest. He kissed the top of the yellow helm as he surrounded him protectively with his arms.

"No," Bee sobbed. He lifted his optics to meet Droct's, his lip trembled in emotion. He didn't want to tell Droct, he wanted his past to go away! But he had to help Cliffjumper, and he couldn't do it alone. But how could he ask the gentle mech to put himself in that kind've danger?

Droct petted the side of his helm, his comforting touch causing a tightness to build in Bee's core. "So what's got you so upset?" he asked softly.

Bee couldn't bring himself to say it, so he merely pointed up toward the surface. In the direction of the con ship, his digit trembling...

Giving Bee a rather curious glance, Droct crawled past him. Poking his head up, he looked toward the ship. Studying it intensely, he noticed the same thing that Bee noticed. But he also saw the Autobot symbols on the limp mech. His core sank, for he knew that it wasn't right for any mech to be tortured like that – but it was an Autobot. And he really didn't have much love for that particular faction.

Coming back down, he sat down heavily next to Bee. He knew the yellow mech had worked for that faction, and probably knew the unconscious mech. That's probably why he was so upset. But they were both small mechs and unarmed, so there was nothing they could do to help the mech. Putting his arm over his friend, Droct pulled him to his side. "You know him, don't you? And it's hard to see him off lined this way," he said softly.

Bee stiffened, "I can't let him deactivate that way, Droct. I can't!" he answered.

"But what can we do? It's just two of us little mechs against all of those Decepticons, and we don't even have guns." Droct shrugged, he could see no way to help the mech.

"Will you help me, even though he's an Autobot?" Bee asked. He prayed Droct would say yes, so maybe he'd be able to forgive Bee when he found out that Bee was an Autobot too.

Droct sighed, remembering the last time he'd been near that faction. The agony of being melted alive, of knowing that they didn't care who stood in their way…. He shook himself back into reality, knowing that the little half-deactivated mech was probably not one of the ones who had done that to him. So could he blame the slogger for the others actions? Could he stand by and let the mech die in such a painful way? Looking into his friend's pleading optics, he knew he had to push his feelings aside and try

and help the mech. It was the only right thing to do.

"You know how I feel about them Bee. Does he really mean that much to you?" Droct asked. Bee knew how painful it was for him to even talk about Autobots. This mech had to be very important to Bee to even ask. And if Bee insisted, Droct would help. He'd do anything his bond mate asked, wouldn't he?

Bee's lip trembled. "He saved my tailpipes once, Droct. I owe him." He prayed Droct would say yes. To help him, and maybe to forgive him when he found out the truth of Bee's past. Primus, he wished his past would just go away! But now it was here, staring at him from the front of that con ship.

Studying his lover, Droct felt his core plummet. This freagin' Autobot had saved him once. So they had to try and return the favor. Gulping down his contempt at helping an Autobot, Droct nodded to Bee. "I guess I'll help, but what can we do?" Droct said softly.

Now that he had a friend to help him, Bumblebee began to try and think of a plan…He pushed his fears about the future of possibly losing Droct aside….He had to do what was right..

------

_Back on Cybertron, there's another mech in need – for an entirely different reason!_

_--------_

"Morning Jazz." Prowl's voice flowed into the room. Filling it with a wonderful tone that the rather musical mech would identify as a 'sensual purr'; which was very, VERY odd for a mech like Prowl…

Activating his optics, Jazz decided that maybe last shift's little unexpected excitement had brought out the playful part in his boyfriend. A part he'd been totally certain was there – but had never found it… A happy smile crossed over his handsome face plate as he met those gorgeous blue optics. Prowl was perfect! Just PERFECT! No matter the nicknames of 'prick' and 'tailpipe retentive' that his fellow recruits had bestowed upon him. "Hey lover man," he replied, moving his chassis in a seductive fashion.

The cop smirked inside. Sometimes having a not-so-sharp boyfriend was a good thing. This was going to be some very interesting 'interrogation' indeed! Whipping out his handcuffs, he shook them from his digit-tips, all the while giving Jazz a suggestive wink. "I've come to the conclusion that this isn't over," he purred.

Squealing in excitement, Jazz took the bait for all it was worth. Flipping onto his backside, he threw his arms above his helm. "Oh! Arrest me! I've been a very naughty bot!" he giggled.

His smirk getting all the more wide, Prowl straddled him and handcuffed his tail pipes to the hooks sank in the wall. Ironically, they were hooks that Jazz had had installed in order to do this very thing – but with HIM as the 'cop' and Prowl as the 'suspect'. A game that had NEVER actually occurred – well, until now that is. At least that's what Jazz would think for the moment… "You've been a VERY bad mech Jazz," he growled in his audio.

Jazz writhed happily underneath him. "Oh yes! VERY bad!" he agreed. His port was already filling with lubricant in anticipation of a little 'domination interface'.

Sliding a digit along his cheek, Prowl nipped him. "You need to be punished for breaking the rules," he whispered.

Arching up with a moan, Jazz bobbed his head in agreement. "Punish me Prowl! Oh yeah!"

Sliding down his chassis, the cop nipped at sensitive lights and fingered delicate servos as he went. His amusement increasing with every moan that escaped Jazz's lip components… Getting to his codpiece, he unlatched it with agonizing slowness, knowing it'd just drive Jazz to glitches… "You want your punishment hard and rough – or gentle and soft?" he teased.

Yelping in excitement at this completely unexpected side of Prowl – Jazz spread his legs wider. "I'm really mmmmm bad… I need it HARD…"

Coating his digit with some of the Primus-damned lubricant that they'd used on him the shift before, Prowl slid it inside the over-eager mech. "Really HARD?"

"Oh woooooowwww!" Jazz hit the back of his helm hard against the wall as his port was filled with a strange heated tingling. So this was how that stuff felt inside one's self? No wonder Prowl had enjoyed it last shift! "Yeah, mmmmmmm, REAL HARD!" His entire chassis seemed to be feeling with the ache for interface now… The tingling from the specialty lubricant driving his sensors wild!

Prowl pulled his digits out and resumed his original position straddling the mech. Just to make him even more desperate for interface, he activated his plug and began to leisurely stroke it – with the hand NOT coated in the specialty lube. Bad enough that he still felt the stuff activated in his port from over a shift ago! "First you have to go through interrogation."

"Mmmmm – what?" Jazz whimpered a bit as he stared at the plug he so desperately needed inside of him right now. A plug so agonizingly close to his aching port!

"You have to answer some questions before I can decide on your punishment," Prowl replied. He ground his hips a bit against Jazz's, eliciting another round of slightly frustrated sounding moans.

Primus, he was going to make this like a REAL cop and suspect game! Jazz just wanted him to shut up and 'fake rape' his tail pipes! "Come on man, let's just do it!" he pleaded. His port was tingling like crazy now… He needed some action!

"Oh no Jazz, you've been wanting to play cop and suspect for a long time now. If I'm gonna play along with your little fantasy, we're gonna do it the right way." Prowl gave him a wink as he ran his digits around those sensitive headlights.

"Maaaaannnnnn," Jazz groaned, but then he cheered up a bit. All he had to do was answer some stupid questions and the mech would slag him. Ok, he could play along. "Ok, what ya want to know?"

"Who told you where I was last shift?" Prowl asked. Bending down, he nipped his hood again. "And you better tell me the truth or I'll really leave some dental plate marks."

Jazz grinned up at him with innocent optics. "Ironhide and Inferno."

"Did they give you the idea to surprise me like you did?" Prowl ground his hips again, knowing how much the mech's port had to be tingling by now… It was torture..

He nodded, why lie? The way Ironhide acted, he and Prowl were old buddies. "Yeah, Ironhide said you always wanted to get slagged in public." He smiled up at the cop. "But you were too shy. Well, until last shift."

"Indeed." So the entire thing had been somewhat orchestrated by the van. Prowl had sensed some hidden tension between himself and Ironhide. A tension perhaps caused by the fact that Ironhide had once rejected his advances – and then later Prowl had had him thrown into the psych ward.

"So, is the interrogation over?" Jazz asked in a hopeful tone. He wanted it to be done, then he could get slagged!

Prowl patted his shoulder armor, slid off of him and stood up. "Affirmative," he replied. His voice returning to his typical no-nonsense tone… Turning on his peds, he headed for the door.

"WAIT! Aren't you gonna slag me?!?" Jazz whined. He wiggled his hands, unable to free them from the cuffs…

Prowl turned and gave him a curious look. "You said you were a bad mech and needed to be punished," he teased.

"But you're supposed to slag me rough for punishment! That's what the game is all about!" Jazz wiggled his hands more. His port was going wild with the tingling of the specialty lube.. He HAD to get slagged – or he'd go to glitches!

Prowl shrugged and retracted his plug. "Your punishment is to lay there and suffer for the remainder of this shift. Hope you enjoy doing your time," he chuckled as he latched his codpiece back into place. Without looking back, he left.

"But….But… PROWL!!!!!" Jazz whined as the door closed. To add to his misery, the lights automatically turned off, leaving him with nothing to do to keep his meta off the warm tingling flowing through his port. He tried to arch his back linkages so that he could at least grind the opening of his port against his berth – but he couldn't…. He tried to shift so that he was off the berth – all he ended up doing was overstretching his arm linkages….

With a groan, he lay there… Helpless and suffering from the overwhelming ache of need – and unable to do a Primus-damned thing about it!

-----

_Note: I'm not against Prowl at all you see… He just reminds me so much of a young cop I know. So I'm using that guy's predicted responses to everything… And every cop has got that mischievous side to him when it comes to handcuffs and 'getting even'…_

_Please review!_


	20. To rescue a Friend

**To Rescue a Friend**

"Hey Bee, heard you needed to see us," Z'ren asked. The teal colored femme slowly crawled up through the tight tunnel, a group of fellow dancers close behind her.

Bee nodded, his optics scanning the group of garbage mech dancers. They were all pretty and sharp-witted, both of which he needed to make his plan work. But would they agree to do something so dangerous? To possibly anger the Decepticons whom they made a lot of credits off of? But without their help, Bee thought it'd be almost impossible to rescue Cliffjumper – so he had an idea..

"So what ya need cutie?" CoLene asked. She winked at the gorgeous yellow mech even as she enjoyed his blush. All the prostitutes loved this mech, for he was always cheerful and happy, told killer stories about where he'd been – and most importantly – didn't want the femmes for anything more than friendship. Which the femmes just ate up, since they weren't used to that kind've respect from male mechs.

"Well, one of my old friends is in a fix. I was wondering if you ladies would help me get him out of it?" the yellow mech said.

Droct watched silently, still amazed at how popular his friend had become. His core lightened a little bit as he sank back against the side of the cramped tunnel. At least it wouldn't be just him and Bee trying to pull this rescue stunt off!

"So what kind've fix are we talking about?" S'taq asked. The red dancer winked conspiratorially at her yellow friend. A few of the other femmes snickered, figuring it was some kind of 'bonding' fix; perhaps handcuffs or something similar? Maybe Bee wanted them to play one of their 'bonding' jokes on a mech – now that'd be fun! Granted, these 'femmes of the night' tended to have strange senses of humor when it came down to playing pranks on males.

"It's easier for you all to see it, than for me to explain it," Bee said. Motioning towards the tunnel entrance, he told them to look at the front of the Decepticon ship.

The femmes crowded past him, poking their heads out of the tunnel and focusing in on what he wanted them to see. Several exclamations of 'damned sloggers', 'poor mech', and 'hell what can we do?' could be heard from the group. Then they closed the tunnel cover, and crawled back down to Bee and Droct.

"Sloggers, your friend's gotten himself into a heck of a jam – now hasn't he?" CoLene drawled. Her core still felt heavy with disgust, but what the Decepticons had done – really didn't surprise her. They were notorious bastards, even the dancers had had their share of trouble out of them. But they did tip well – once they were over-energized. And if a femme stayed on her peds, she wouldn't get raped too badly when they paid her for some bonding action. Well, except for the higher ups – every femme hid when those two sadistic freaks were around!.

"So what can we do? He pissed off the cons, and their going to off-line him – you know that," S'taq added. She too was sickened, but she was pragmatic. And a mech was foolish to tangle with the cons. There were certain cons the prostitutes even tried to avoid – for they seemed to think sadism was a fun sort of bonding. They just didn't pay enough to make THAT worthwhile to a dancer.

Z'ren gave Bee a hug, her pity for his friend in her optics. "He's an Autobot, I saw his insignia. You worked with him, didn't you?" she asked softly.

Bee knew there was only one way he could convince the dancers to help him – to make it a possibility of a big payoff. Barely scraping a living, these femmes would all be tempted to risk it all, if they knew there was a big financial gain to be had. "Yes, I worked with him. He's one of Optimus Prime's right hand mechs." Granted, it was a little white lie. But Bee knew that HE could get the payoff outt've Prime.

CoLene whistled, "You're serious? Prime's right hand mech?!" In her meta, she could envision the reward that the Autobots were probably offering for the mech's return.

"Wow, really?" Z'ren asked. Her optics widened as she also realized the potential funds that could be involved. And if Bee was saying he knew this mech – then he must've met Optimus Prime himself! "Sloggers! Have you actually met Prime, Bee?!" she asked, her optics gleaming in idolization.

"Yep, took a lot of personal courier jobs for him. Know him pretty good. In fact, I think I could get him to double the reward for you femmes." Yes, a few more white lies mixed with truth. But Bee knew that he probably could get the Autobots to double the 'return fee' that they gave to these dancer femmes. His engines warmed as he could see the femmes becoming motivated to help Cliffjumper.

S'taq leaned over to him, her helm scraping the low ceiling. This caused a slight cascade of dust and refuse to come down, lightly coating her shiny red shoulders. Brushing it off without really noticing, her brilliant blue optics gleamed with her thoughts. "Few questions before we agree to help you. First – is this mech as good looking as you are? When he's not half-dead that is. Second – does he like femmes? Third – is he single? And Fourth – just how much funds are we talking?"

Bumblebee shifted uncomfortably. He didn't really like the idea of putting words in his friends' mouths by any means – but he had to say what he knew the dancers wanted to hear. "Well, um, he looks pretty much the same as I do, but he's red. As far as I know, he's always preferred femmes." At least Bee hoped so, the femmes would kick his aft if he was wrong. For he could see the appraising looks they were giving his own chassis as they were picturing it in red. But then, Cliffjumper probably just LOVE having a bunch of dancers after his tail pipes. So Bee didn't really think he'd be mad about it. "Last time I saw him, he was unbonded." At least that was true… "And I think you'd each get at least a thousand credits, if not more.." Bee gulped, he'd convince Prime – he would!

The five dancers all looked at each other, their optics gleaming at the prospect of not only getting more funds than they earned over several orbit cycles – but also helping to 'fix-up' a rich, single mech. Perhaps one of them would indeed catch his optic and get to leave this rock of a planet? Yes, it seemed like a good 'business proposition' indeed.

Nodding their heads to Bee, they agreed to help.

----

"Why the hell do we get guard duty?! This sucks!" Runabout bitched. He was pacing on the rocky ground from one end of the ship to the other. Grumbling in disgust, since all the other cons were partying and causing trouble at the metropolis.

LongHaul watched his comrade, his red optics narrowing in agreement over the blasted assignment. He felt like strangling that prick Starscream, for he knew it was that slogger who'd assigned them this grunt duty. Looking up at the nose of the space ship, he snickered again as he looked at the limp Autobot strapped to it. Granted, it'd be fun to rape the pathetic Autobot to pass the time while they were guarding. But since the mech was pretty much off-lined, the only thing he was useful for was a snicker. Vortex and Brawl had finally come up with a good idea. Their first ever!

Stomping by the Constructicon, Runabout stopped and stared up at Cliffjumper. "Figures that the little freager' off-lined. Can't even have a little fun while we do slag duty," he continued to grumble. Picking up a rock, he threw it at the unconscious mech. The solid thud of it as it hit his target; brightened his foul mood slightly.

"Ya, those Autobots are pretty pathetic. Can't even handle a little bonding," LongHaul snickered. He'd really enjoyed the gangbang they'd done to the mech. And he couldn't wait until they caught themselves another one. His engines revved a bit at the thought. Maybe they'd catch that piece of slag Ironhide? It'd be so much fun to thrust his circuits into that bastard's aft and listen to him scream.

Lost in his thoughts, LongHaul didn't even notice the five dancers strolling towards them. Until Runabout drew his weapon and ordered them to stop. Shaking himself back to reality, LongHaul whipped his out and walked up to the group.

The femme's looked at each other in apparent shock. Their big blue optics stared up at the Decepticons. Scanning them with his sensors, LongHaul couldn't detect any weapons. "What is your business?" he demanded, using his most threatening of tones.

The femme's all seemed scared, and they trembled as he lowered his weapon at them. "Um, we're just on our way to the club. Um, for the dance competition," a light blue femme said. Her beautiful face looking up at LongHaul, her optics shined with honesty. She gulped, apparently intimidated by the two cons.

LongHaul and Runabout shared a quick glance. The prostitutes were quite attractive, and heck they didn't have anything better to do – did they? Runabout nodded to LongHaul – both of them knowing that they were thinking along the same lines. This planet did have some 'advantages', for there were many beautiful femmes whom were more than willing to be 'hired' by a mech; at least for an astrohour or so.

Putting his gun away, Runabout strolled up to one of the dancers, a mischievous smile on his face. "So you're dancers huh? Why don't you prove it to us?" With that, he roughly took her lips, the femme not resisting in the least. She wrapped herself around him, knowing exactly what he was expecting. The picture of a thousand credits locked in her meta; she let him carry her to the boulder strewn side of the road.

Snickering at his comrade, LongHaul put his own weapons away. Grabbing two of the good looking femmes, he strolled away from the ship as well. Yep, at least he'd have some fun with the whores while he pulled grunt duty. There wasn't anything or anyone on this planet to challenge the cons – so why guard the damned ship in the first place?!

Z'ren and S'taq just looked at each other and grinned. For this had been far too easy for the 'femmes of the night' to con the mechs away from the ship! Bee had been so right about the Decepticon guards. They were more interested in personal gratification, than doing their duties. Such easy males for the dancers to outsmart! Going over to the side of the cliff, the two femmes helped the two mechs up.

Bee and Droct quickly came around to the front of the ship. Letting the dancers climb on their shoulder plates, they stood still while Cliffjumper was cut down. The femmes slowly lowered him into their waiting arms, and jumped lithely from their shoulders. Their peds barely even made a sound as they touched the rocky ground, causing small plumes of dust to silently rise into the still night air.

Walking quietly away from the ship with Cliffjumper hanging limply between them, Bee hoped that the other three femmes would get away as cleanly – before the cons realized their 'decoration' was now gone. But he had no doubt that those sharp-witted dancers would disappear into the night when the time was right.

After they were out of audio range, Droct transformed. The other three wrapped the unconscious mech up in a tarp and gently curled him up in Droct's bed. Then they piled the supplies that they had gathered, on top of the tarped mech, and covered it all with another tarp. This way they could hide him while they drove to a safe location.

Bumblebee transformed and let the two femmes piled his seats high with energon cubes, His shocks strained under the weight. No complaint left his lip components since he knew it might be dozens of planetary rotation cycles before they dared to come back to the metropolis.

Finished loading everything, the two femmes transformed and followed the mechs as they all headed towards the far-off mountains.

---

"How much further Droct?" Z'ren asked. Her voice showed the strain of the long journey through the night. The bright teal of her paint was now hidden under layer upon layer of thick mountain dust.

"It's still a ways. We can't go to any of the active mines, they'd find us there," Droct explained. Even though he was carrying the most weight, he didn't seem overly strained.

"That makes sense. So how long do you think it'll take to fix this mech up?" S'taq asked. She was concerned that the mech hadn't reactivated at all during the high-speed trek.

Droct concentrated, he could feel the warmth of the mech's chassis in his bed, and he had felt him try to reactivate a few times. But then the mech had just shut down again. He didn't really know what was damaged until he looked, so he really couldn't answer her. Though they'd brought most of the supplies that he thought they'd need to fix the mech. "I'm not sure until I really examine him, but he's tried to reactivate a few times."

Bee's spark pulsed, for at least they'd rescued Cliffjumper alive! And if any mech could fix him it was Droct and T'ran. Z'ren would go fetch that femme after they made it to their hideout. While they waited for her, he and Droct would repair what they could.

The star's rays began to chase off the night. A sinking feeling went through Bee, for if they didn't go underground by daylight, Megatron's Seekers would easily spot them. Staying silent, he knew that Droct fully understood this, and would get them underground soon.

------

_Meanwhile, back on Cybertron…_

_-----_

At first Prowl's tires had been headed directly towards the location that he knew the fire crews were training at, fully intending for a direct confrontation with the instigator. But the tactician in him sparked a new idea when he happened to spy a particular set of twins. A set of twins whom he had some discipline referrals to serve to… A set of twins that would be more than willing to work out a 'plea deal' in order to stay out of the brig this time.

Changing direction, he flipped on his blue lights as he fell in behind the red and yellow sportsters. Yes, this would be a highly suitable solution….

"Drat it Sideswipe! I told you the prick would catch on!" Sunstreaker grumbled as the shrill siren split the air behind them. Like always, he'd been dragged into one of his brother's little schemes. And like always, it would be HIM that suffered the most! They always took away his buffing supplies when they thrill him in the brig. Which meant he not only came out pissed – but smudged up as well.

"Chill out Sun, I'll just talk to him. Simple misunderstanding you know, that's all." Sideswipe exuded the calm confidence of a master manipulator. He'd probably be able to talk his way out of it – with any mech BUT Prowl. He'd still give it his best shot though. There was always the slight chance that Prowl was in a good mood for once.

"Yeah right, you've said that before," Sun snorted. He began to slow down and pull over. If he didn't, he knew just how happy Prowl was to shoot some tire strips in front of them. Having his tires ripped to pieces was not a fun experience!

Chuckling confidently, Sideswipe transformed and slid to a full stop on his peds. Pasting his best smile on his face plate, he turned to great the cop as Prowl transformed. "Hey Prowl, what's up?" he asked innocently.

Giving the red prankster a glare that would make anyone-other-than-Sideswipe cringe, Prowl whipped his electronic ticket chalkboard out. "Do you want me to read the charges filed against you two – or can we save that astrohour this time?"

Sunstreaker rolled his optics and snorted as he transformed. "Which would YOU rather do Prowl?" He had a sneaking suspicion that the prick actually enjoyed their discomfort every time they had to stand there for an astrohour and listen to every single thing they had managed to do wrong – and WHY every little single thing WAS wrong. Then the long list of numeric codes for the rules they had broken would follow. Sometimes it was actually a blessing to hear the silence after the brig door slammed behind them.

"You know we are completely and totally innocent Prowl. Why don't you go and find the real cuprits this time?" Sideswipe offered, still keeping up his 'totally innocent' façade.

This time Prowl snorted, "Give me a break Sideswipe, these little pranks have your names written all over them."

"I told you not to paint our initials across his tailpipes!" the red mech snapped at his twin.

"No, you told me to paint our FULL names across it! I was running low on black – so that's all I could do!" Sun shot back in a growl.

Rolling his optics, Prowl shook his head. The sheer audacity of these two mechs never ceased to amaze him. "You're both lucky that Ultra Magnus does have a sense of humor. He only gave each of you a seven cycle in the brig."

Both twins groaned as if they'd just been dished out death sentences. They'd go nuts with nothing to do but to look at bare walls for seven whole rotation cycles! "Come on Prowl, isn't there something else we could do?" Sideswipe pleaded.

This was exactly what Prowl expected him to say, and he'd already begun to come up with an idea on how the twins could work off their punishment and stay out of the brig. Lowering the electronic chalkboard, he gave them both a serious look. "Perhaps…"

Their optics lit up at the thought that there might be a way they could stay out of the brig. "Really?!? What??? Just name it???" they eagerly chimed.

-----

"This is sweeeeeeeetttt!" Sideswipe snickered as they peaked around the corner.

His yellow twin was pressed up against the wall next to him. "I can't believe that PROWL of all mechs just ORDERED us to target prank two mechs for an entire seven cycle," he whispered, "any idea what's going on between him and them?"

"Nope, and I really don't care. Do you?" the red mech was studying his quarry, his meta thinking of all sorts of fun things he could do to them.

"Not really, I've only met Ironhide a few times and he's too fixated on stuff for my taste." Sunstreaker moved swiftly to the other side of the opening. So swiftly that the two mechs involved in fire suppressant training never even noticed. He peaked around the corner, appraising the potential capabilities of the fire engine named Inferno.

"My opinion exactly. Maybe Prowl wants us to show these mechs how to not be so serious?" Sideswipe quipped. He pulled out a trigger line, his optics darting around as he figured out how to set up a booby trap style prank. The two victims HAD to come right through here to get back to the primary base complex. It'd be a perfect spot!

"That's not Prowl's style," Sun replied. Smoothly catching the trigger line, he began to position it just so. It was a rather well-practiced maneuver for the twins. "No, he's got something personal going on with them."

Sideswipe shrugged as he waited for Sunstreaker to get the open can of paint positioned just right. "Who cares what's going on? We just got permission to prank these two to our spark's content for the next seven rotations. And I for one am going to enjoy EVERY minute of it!" Tightening the trigger line, he grinned mischievously as he envisioned what was going to happen when the van and fire engine rolled through here.

"Got a point on that," Sun agreed. Nodding that everything was in order, he motioned for his twin to follow him. Silently, they made their way to the perfect viewing area.

-----

"What the frag!?!" Ironhide shrieked in surprise as he transformed. The entire planet had just turned into a solid green blur. He twirled in surprise as he tried to get his bearings back.

As his partner stumbled into him right as he was transforming, Inferno smacked down on his tailpipes with a clang against the pavement. His own optics also coated with green. Wiping at them with his digits, he quickly realized that it was paint, and it wasn't just his optics that were coated. It was half his chassis that was now splattered. "Paint," he muttered.

Tripping over Inferno, Ironhide muttered more curses as he hit the pavement face plate first. Hearing Inferno's words, he rubbed at his optics and then looked at his digits in disbelief – they WERE coated in paint! "Why… of all the primus-damned-blamed-things-for-a-mech-to-leave-around….."

Noticing the trigger wire, Inferno pointed at it. "It wasn't 'left around' – it was a booby trap."

This really ticked off Ironhide. He went into a full-blown tirade about pranksters even as Inferno dragged him back to the fire suppressant training field and began to spray the wet paint off both of them with a fire hose.

Show now over, the twins held their laughter in until they'd driven far enough away that their victims wouldn't hear them. Falling over each other on the ground, they shrieked in laughter for an entire astrohour….

---

_Sorry it's taken so long. Hughes Net sucks! But writing about my favorite twins always brightens my day……. _Please review..


	21. Shattered spark

**Shattered Spark**

Just as the Star was peaking over the horizon, Droct veered off the main road and went careening down a side road. It was barely distinguishable as a road, for the cycles of disuse had allowed the rains to form deep ruts as they had eroded it away. Curling like a snake around the sharp drops and rises of the mountain crags, the roadway seemed more like a coaster ride from hell – than a place the four of them should be driving.

Finally, the metal cap of a closed mine came into view. The four of them stopped in front of it. Z'ren and S'taq transformed and worked together to try and budge the heavy metal plate. The mechs could only sit there and wait, for they were too loaded down to transform and help. With hydraulics straining and squealing in protest, the femmes got the plate to move far enough to the side, for the two mechs to drive through.

Darting inside, the femmes barely got out of sight as the rumble of a Seeker patrol filled the mountain air. Not even daring to try and slide the metal plate back in place, the two femmes stood silently on either side of it. They trembled in fear that the Seekers would land and find them. Bee and Droct shut off their engines, silently praying to Primus that they wouldn't be found.

The rumble escalated to a roar over them, the Seekers obviously flying at less than ten thousand clicks; as they searched for the mechs who had the audacity to steal their 'decoration'. The very ground shook around the hiding mechs, their anxiety filled the abandoned mineshaft. The only sound besides the Seeker engines, was the fluctuating coolant fans trying desperately to keep the four nervous mechs within operating temperatures.

Finally, the rumble disappeared in the distance. The four mechs let out an audible rush of air as they relaxed.

"Well, let's get this back in place," Z'ren stated. She turned and pulled down on the plate with all of her might.

S'taq helped her, and with both femmes straining, the last rays of the star were cut off as the metal plate slid back into position.

Clicking on their infrared sensors, the four mechs were not bothered in the least by the pitch black of the old mine shaft. In fact, the press of the tons of rock above them, gave them a sense of security. For most of the cons were far too large to get under here. And since the shaft had been abandoned for so long, most mechs wouldn't even remember it was here.

Transforming, the two femmes followed the mechs as Droct led them down deeper into the mountain. The cool, moist air filled their intakes with its sweetness; as it removed the stench of the landfill gas from their engines.

-----

"How's he look?" S'taq asked. She gently unwrapped the tarp from the unconscious Autobot. Laying the tarp carefully over the side of the rock slab on which they'd laid the mech on top of. Her optics scanned his half-naked chassis, noting the extensive damage and torture he'd endured.

Droct ran his hands over the mech, checking his vitals with a practiced optic. Then he moved up to the mech's head, cocking it back and forcing Cliffjumper's mouth open. Putting a digit far inside his mouth, he felt the mech's neck servos as he did it. "We're going to have to tube him, he has no swallow reflex right now," he stated. Removing his hands, he went to sort through the supplies they'd brought.

Bee ran his hands gently over Cliffjumper's bare abdomen, amazed that the mech was even functioning with this amount of damage. The knot inside him tightened its grip, because he knew he had to find a way to tell Droct that he had lied to him. If he waited until Cliffjumper regained consciousness, then the red mech would end up telling his secret. Looking over at his bond mate shuffling through the pile of supplies, Bee knew that he had only agreed to help Cliffjumper because Bee had begged him too. The pain from all the hell Droct had lived through because of the Autobots was still very real to him. What would he think when he found out he'd been sharing his spark with an Autobot for the last few cycles? Would he forgive Bee?

Bee rubbed Cliffjumper's bare circuits as he thought. He didn't know what to say to Droct. How to put it, so that the mech would understand? Perhaps he should wait until T'ran got here? If they had a feeding tube down Cliffjumper's throat, it'd interfere with his vocalizers if he were to reactivate. Maybe Bee could whisper the situation to him? Get Cliffjumper to agree not to spill the oil until Bee could talk with T'ran.

The yellow mech relaxed a little. Yes, he'd just make sure that Cliffjumper couldn't talk until T'ran and him figured out how to tell Droct about what and who Bee really was.

"Ok, found the right size. Now Bee, tilt his cranial unit back so we've got a straight line down," Droct ordered. Walking up with the hose, he waited as Bee tilted the mech's helm back. He tried to keep his optics off those damned insignias on the mech's armor fragments. Tried to ignore the fact that he was actually helping one of them! His digits trembled as he fought to control his emotions. Looking into Bee's optics, he concentrated on the fact that this mech had saved Bee once – so he was just returning the favor.

Putting the end of the hose into the mech's mouth, he slowly guided it down the throat cavity and into his primary core. Satisfied that it was in position, he took some duct tape and secured the feeding tube to the side of the mech's helm. Making sure that it wouldn't shift in the least little bit. Nodding to Bee, he let the mech put his head back into a more 'normal' position. "S'taq, if you'll get that funnel and slowly pour about a quarter cube down him," he quietly ordered the femme.

S'taq grabbed a cube and the funnel and began to tube feed the unconscious mech. While Droct moved to his abdomen and began a more thorough exam. And he didn't like what he was seeing.

"Z'ren, Bee get on either side of him, grab a leg, bend it and hold it to his chest," he ordered in his soft voice.

Z'ren and Bee looked at each other and shrugged, they had no idea why Droct needed the mech in such an awkward position. But he was the medic, so they didn't argue. Moving to opposite sides of Cliffjumper, they grabbed his leg units and folded him into the strange position.

Clicking his headlights on, Droct stood between the mech's folded legs. Bending over he focused the light up into the mech's abdominal interior from his aft section. His core plummeting as he saw the sheer amount or torn and melted sensory circuits within the mech. Pushing aside some of the melted wires from his primary nets, Droct carefully worked his hands up to his elbows inside Cliffjumper's abdomen. Droct accessed the circuitry near his battle processor. Tapping a code, he frowned as he got back the message. Pulling his servos slowly back out of the mech's abdomen, he nodded to his two assistants to put the mech's legs back down.

Without a word, he moved over to Cliffjumper's head, and began to remove the side of the helm that didn't have the feeding hose duct taped to it. Kneeling down, he again focused his lights. This time on the mech's Meta Processor. Tapping a code, his frown deepened as he read the resulting message. Putting the mech's helm back in place, he slowly pulled the tarp back over his chassis.

"So what's up Droct? Can he be fixed?" Bee asked. He hadn't liked the frown he could sense on Droct's face. The fear in his core began to pulse through his systems.

Droct sat down heavily on a rock shelf near Cliffjumper. The expression in his optics told Bee that his friend was in really bad shape. "We can fix his chassis and sensory nets fairly easily, and structurally he appears sound," Droct said.

"But then what's making you frown so much?" the yellow mech asked. His lower lip trembled with anxiety for his friend.

Sighing, Droct looked at him gravely. "I'm sorry Bee. He's been gangbanged real badly. And when they destroyed his firewall, they fragmented his base programming. He can't reactivate fully without crashing again, because his programs are so glitched. Even his defragmentation programs are affected, so he can't repair his own programming. This repair is beyond me – I'm sorry." His core felt heavy as he saw the downcast look on his bonded's face. This Autobot must've meant a lot to Bee.

"So is there anything we can do to help him? Anything?" Bee's voice had a pleading edge to it.

Droct nodded. "We keep his base systems running and start repairing what we can. Maybe T'ran can help his programming issues." He nodded at Z'ren. "Tell T'ran what's wrong, and hurry!"

---

_Meanwhile, back on Cybertron… There's more to Prowl's actions than meets the optic…_

_-----_

"I'M GONNA GIVE THAT FREAGER A WHOLE NEW TAIL PIPE!" Ironhide bellowed as he hit the wall again with all of his strength.

Rubbing the sides of his helm, Inferno tried to keep his meta-ache from increasing in intensity, which was becoming rather difficult considering the stress he was under. Ever since they'd found out that the tactician had in effect 'sic'd' the twins on them for the last cyber moon cycle – Ironhide was beyond himself in rage. This left Inferno stuck with guarding the door and not allowing the van to charge out in search of a fight. "Calm down Ironhide, kicking his aft is only going to get you thrown back in the brig. And NOT the hospital psych brig either."

Stomping back and forth, Ironhide grumbled under his breath. He knew Inferno was right – but that didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it ticked him off even more – since it made the prick-of-an-officer seem even more in control of everything.

"Keep pacing like that and you'll be out of energy before we get our next ration." Laying a hand on the shorter mech's shoulder plate, Inferno nodded for him to take a seat. "Sit down; we need to think this entire situation through."

For a moment he considered shaking off his friend's hand – and his advice as well. But right now Inferno was kind've all he had. He'd gotten himself thrown off the front line troops. Lost his security clearance… And now even Optimus Prime was telling him to stay in the fire suppressant Unit for the foreseeable future. True, it had kind've been all his doing – but that didn't make it any easier.

So now, here he was, with only his 'fake boyfriend' as someone he could talk to. As the mech he could count on. "Ok, ain't got anything else to do," he muttered as he slammed his tailpipes down on their shared berth.

Sitting next to him, Inferno wrapped a comforting arm across Ironhide's shoulders. For a long moment they both just sat there. Each one lost in their own thoughts on the issue of Prowl.

Finally…..

"I know you two were partners and got into it – but what else happened between you two?" Inferno asked.

"Nothin' much," Ironhide replied with a shrug.

"Seriously, SOMETHING had to have happened. What was it?" He was going to keep pressing until he got to the bottom of it.

"He came on to me a while back. That's all. But you already knew that." Ironhide leaned back, but didn't try to shrug off Inferno's arm.

"Yes, and you're not into mechs."

"Nope." Ironhide gave him a sarcastic grin. "Not even into my supposed boyfriend – who happens to have his arm all over me right now."

Grinning back, the fire engine took the hint and removed his arm. "But let's think about it from Prowl's perspective."

"Don't give a slag 'bout his perspective."

"I know that, but if we can't figure him out – you'll never get back on the front lines…"

"And you'll never get your own berth. Yeah yeah – I get the picture." With a great roll of his optics, Ironhide leaned back against the wall.

"We BOTH want our own berths again."

"Yeah, acting gay ain't nearly as fun as I thought it'd be."

Shooting him a look, Inferno sighed. "Didn't think we'd have to act for this long though."

"You and me both!"

Inferno decided that it was time to get back to figuring out the source of their joint problem – Prowl. "So, let's get back to Prowl. How would you feel if you asked a femme out, she refused saying she wasn't into mechs – then later she appeared to be into a mech?"

"You callin' me a femme?" Ironhide's optics narrowed.

"No, I was just putting it in a way you might understand a little better."

"So now you callin' me stupid – and a femme?"

"No, I uh…." Inferno was getting flustered now. Turning, he met Ironhide's optics – and saw the amused smile. So the van was just teasing him! "Quit that. Let's get serious about this."

They discussed it long into the dark cycle……

------

"Hey Prowl," Ironhide came alongside the mech and wrapped his arm around him.

Before the tactician could react properly, he felt a press against his other side.

"Long time," Inferno said with a slight smirk as he added his arm to the van's.

Trapped between the pair, Prowl found himself guided to their quarters. He considered putting up a fight about it, but the smell of energon was strong. And for some reason he found himself longing for a taste of it as well. As the door slid open and he was guided through – with a few colorful and somewhat tasteless leading comments – he found his interface nets getting warm.

"Here have a sip buddy," Ironhide purred as he passed a cube to him. He sat down very VERY close, causing their thigh armor to rub seductively together.

Inferno slid in on his other side, also pressing close.

Sandwiched in between the two handsome mechs, Prowl's engine hitched a bit. He grabbed the cube with slightly shaking hands, gulping it down so fast that tiny rivets of glowing energon streamed down the sides of his jaw.

"Whoa, take it easy," Inferno advised. He pounded the mech on his back armor as Prowl choked.

"Yeah, you're a little keyed up. Loosen up buddy." With his hand, Ironhide wiped the energon off of Prowl's smooth thin facial metal – once Inferno had gotten his intakes clear of spilled energon.

"Ka – Ke!" Energon splattered the wall as Prowl finally coughed up the rest. His face plate heated up as Ironhide's gentle digits cleaned off his face plate. He'd always liked the mech's rough-and-tough looks. Had secretly fantasized about this off shift… True, Ironhide had always driven him to glitches with his 'shoot first – ask questions later' mentality. But then it seemed that the majority of the Autobots drove him crazy with that same philosophy.

With a slightly evil grin, Ironhide pulled Prowl to him. "Be honest with me Prowl." He lowered his voice, darkened his optics… "You've wanted me since we were younglings entering the academy gates."

Their lip components were so close… Prowl could feel the heat from Ironhide's out flow of air. "Yes," he whispered back. His meta was becoming cloudy with over-energization.. His thought processes slowing to a crawl.

"But you're with Jazz now." Ironhide rubbed a digit across Prowl's quivering lips. "Or… are … you… tonight?" he whispered in a lust-filled voice.

Grinding his dental plates together, Prowl tried to think past his thickening cable. Primus, he wanted this mech! Not for a relationship – but for raw meta-blowing interface. Yes, he had the reputation of being quite, predictable and totally logical. But for this one experience, this one mech – he'd throw it all out the hatch for a single experience. "Not… tonight…" he moaned.

Inferno and Ironhide met optics as the now-intoxicated officer literally rose to the occasion. "Yep, you were right 'Hide – he's so into you," Inferno teased.

"But I'm into you Inferno – not him," Ironhide replied. They'd planned this perfectly!

"Nooooo," Prowl whimpered. He grabbed at the red van, his expression one of total desperation. "Pllleeeaaassseee 'Hide – just oooonnnnnccceee!" he begged. A millennia of fantasies – about to come true. A secret desire – come to completion. He couldn't let it just slide out of his servos. He was willing to cheat on Jazz. Willing to risk his steadfast reputation! All for one experience!

Ironhide raised an optic ridge at such uncharacteristic behavior. Yeah, he and Inferno had figured that there was something deeper going on with Prowl. They just hadn't realized how deep it went. He actually felt bad enough for the mech – that he'd almost do him. 'Almost' was the key word though….

"I'll allow it ONCE. But NO one is to ever speak of it again!" Inferno stated firmly. His optics gleamed as he stood up and looked down at the two.

A delighted yelp peeped from Prowl's vocalizer and he grabbed for Ironhide.

The van pressed him down, tapping his olfactory sensor with the tip of a servo. "You promise to leave me alone after this?" By the tone of his voice, he made it clear that it had better.

"Yes… Yes!" Prowl allowed him to push him back on the berth. He smiled with drunken optics as Ironhide stretched his hands over his helm – rubbing the length of their chassis together.

"And we're doin' this MY way. Do you understand?" Ironhide grinned as he clamped the stasis cuffs around Prowl's wrist servos.

Prowl trembled in anticipation, gulping down more energon as it was offered… He was drunk… He knew it… And for once in his life – he didn't care… He was going to get slagged by the one mech he'd always desired – and never could have…. The one mech he could never control.. The entire reason he was so hyper-controlled in the rest of his life..

"I want you to concentrate on feeling everything," Ironhide growled in a deep voice as he tied a optic-blind around Prowl's helm. "Every nip." He nipped his smooth neck, smirking as Prowl yelped in drunken excitement. "Every thrust." He slammed his hips down onto Prowl's suddenly…

Inferno nodded to him, then soundlessly opened the door and let in their pre-arranged 'surrogate Ironhide'.

With the biggest slag-eating smile ever imaginable on the face plate of a mech, Sideswipe slid in. He'd always wanted to do Prowl. But the tactician would skin him alive if he'd ever tried. Well now, here he was, laid out for Sideswipe's pleasure. The only catch was that he could NEVER speak of it – and had had to reprogram his vocalizer to sound just like Ironhide. No biggie…….

Ironhide and Inferno sat across from the berth to watch the show in silence. To be brutally honest – they both learned a heck of a lot about interface technique that off-shift…

And Ironhide became almost Primus-like in his interface technique to the very inebriated tactician who believed he was truly living out a dream…..

-------

_Note: Sorry it's been so long. Been battling some serious Carpal Tunnel since Thanksgiving, so I don't know when I'll be able to type again. Hope you enjoyed the twist I came up with for the Cybertronian plot. _

_Please review.. I love to read each and every one!_


	22. Coming Clean

**Coming Clean**

T'ran marched in, not even waiting for her own engines to cool down from her dizzying drive from the other mine. Her keen optics assessed the situation. There was a small half-naked Autobot laying on a rock platform, with one of the dancer femmes still patiently dripping energon down his feeding tube. The Autobot's legs were spread, and Droct and Bee were leaned over him from both sides, trying to piece his insides back together.

Sighing with disgust, because she had hoped that Droct was finally done with fixer-uppers; plus the fact that he had chosen to put them all in danger by snagging the Decepticons' little 'decoration' right off the front of their ship; T'ran marched up to Droct and put her hand on his shoulder. "You got in deep on this one Droct," she said. Her optics clearly expressed her frank disagreement with the action.

He looked up, meeting her harsh optics with a sheepish look. "I couldn't let him die T'ran. Bee knows the mech," he explained.

Looking over at the yellow mech, T'ran's harsh optics made him squirm. "Do you realize what kind've danger you've put us all in Bee? And all for a stinking Autobot!" she knew she shouldn't be so harsh, but of all mechs, Bee knew how they felt about Autobots. Regardless of if he had worked with this one or not – he knew!

Bee looked timidly up at the dominant femme. "Cliffjumper saved my aft; I couldn't just let him die." His voice broke slightly as he explained.

She sighed in exacerbation. "So did this slogger ever risk his own tail pipes to save yours?" Her optics narrowed, for Bee had risked more than his own tail pipes on this one – he'd risked all of theirs. Maybe he hadn't thought of that?

"Yes he did," Bee simply said. In his core, he knew he'd done what had to be done. And there was no way T'ran was going to make him sorry for it. Even though he knew that she was drilling him merely out of concern for the safety of her brother and the others. They weren't involved in the Autobot/Decepticon conflict – and avoided being involved at all costs. He did feel bad in getting them to help with the rescue, but there hadn't been any other way.

Seeing him stand up to her, T'ran knew he must be speaking the truth. Trying to ignore the Autobot insignia on the unconscious mech's shoulders, she scanned his external damage with her optics. Sliding next to Droct, she ran her hand along Cliffjumper's exposed circuits. "So what seems to be the problem with his processors Droct?" she asked.

Pulling his fingers out of the circuits he was trying to piece back together, Droct turned to his sister. "He was gangbanged badly. I think when they broke through his firewalls, the sheer number of different con sparks fragmented most of his base programs. He's continually trying to reboot, gets about half-way, then his default causes an automatic shutdown to protect him from further frag."

T'ran ran her fingers lightly on his damaged aft circuits that they'd been working on. By the amount of damage it was obvious that he'd been raped repeatedly and violently. Even though he was an Autobot, she felt a little sorry for the mech. For no one deserved that. But if his processors were that fragmented there were only two ways to repair him.

"Well, we either figure out a way to get him to a major Autobot base where they have the equipment and programs to straighten out his processors.. Or…" she stopped her thought, for the second choice was even more improbable than the first choice.

"Or what?" Bee asked hopefully. His optics pleaded with her to perform some kind of miracle. They'd never get him to a major Autobot base. Not only did they not have the funds, but it'd be impossible to hide an unconscious Autobot from the Decepticons during the trip on commercial transports.

"Or we find an Autobot willing to integrate systems with him. Then we can use that Autobot's base programs and defrag programs to straighten his out." T'ran's optics were harsh, for she knew that possibility was less likely than the first.

Bee felt like he'd been hit in the core by Motor Master. For here he was, the only one who could fix Cliffjumper, but to do it, he'd have to tell them that he'd been lying to them all these years. But he owed the Autobot his life didn't he? Then again, he owed Droct just as much. Pulling his hands out of Cliffjumper's circuitry, he moved towards the tunnels. "I've got to go think for a while," he said quietly.

Droct moved to go after him, but T'ran stopped him. "There's no way we can fix this mech Droct, and Bee's just upset. Leave him be.."

Bee stumbled down the pitch black mine shack, using his infrared to find his way. His meta was overcome by a cascading tide of conflicting emotions. He knew he HAD to come clean. Had to tell them now! And he wouldn't even have Cliffjumper's support when he faced the music for his lies. He knew it'd been wrong to lie back when he'd told them he was a courier mech. But it'd felt like the right choice at the time.

He loved Droct down to his very core. And had never meant to hurt the mech. But he was fixing to tear his world apart, and he knew it. Droct would probably hate him. Never want to see him again. And Bee would return to the Autobots alone, unloved, and miserable. But he'd dug his own hole when he had started the lie; had dug it ever deeper as the orbit cycles had passed.

He sat down heavily, putting his head in his servos. For astrohours he sobbed, knowing what he had to do, and hating himself for being an Autobot in the first place.

"Hey Bee, you ok?" T'ran's voice asked softly.

Wiping the energon tears from his face plate, Bee leaned back against the rock of the mine shaft's wall. He was a little glad that it was T'ran and that she was alone. He just couldn't bear to face Droct right now.

Sitting down next to him, the femme put her arm across his shoulders. "Hey, I know it's hard to accept that we can't fix him. But you've got to Bee," she said as she consoled him. She thought about her brother, still in there working on the damned Autobot's circuitry. Like he was trying to deny the truth of the mech's condition! And he was only doing it because Bee cared for the mech lying on that table.

Bee's optics filled with tears and he trembled in anxiety. He had to tell her, now, right now. "But… we can fix him T'ran.." he stammered, not even able to look into her optics.

T'ran shook her head, knowing Bee was just trying to deny it. Just like Droct was. "I told you what he needs. We don't have access to either. We can't fix him Bee." She rubbed his shoulder as she stated the facts.

His coolant systems came on, trying to keep his overheating systems from exceeding their limits. His entire system reacting to his internal stress of what he had to admit…. "We do have access… to an Autobot.." he stammered, his head still bowed, his optics glued to the floor.

"You know where one is on this planet?" T'ran asked incredulously. For she hadn't heard of any strangers other than the cons, bothering to visit this far-away system in eons.

He shuddered as he nodded, still not quite able to admit it.

"Where is he? We need to get him here immediately!" T'ran said excitedly. She stood up as if she was going to rush out and grab the Autobot right off the streets.

"He's… He's.. right here.." Bee said haltingly; not moving an inch, not able to look at her.

T'ran's optics widened in disbelief as she quickly realized what he was saying. "But you said you were just a courier. That you just worked for them!"

"I lied," Bee sobbed.

Suddenly, he was picked up by his throat and slammed against the wall. T'ran's optics glistened in rage as she glared at him. "First of all, you know how we feel about Autobots Bee… Secondly, I hate liars far worse than I hate Autobots!" Slapping him with her other hand, she knocked him to the side.

Not even trying to put up a defense against her righteous rage, Bumblebee slumped against the wall and sobbed. "I was afraid I'd lose him, T'ran. Before you told me what had happened to him, I was going to take him back with me. Get him a job with us." His sobbing interrupted his sentence. "After you told me, I knew he'd hate me if he ever found out what I am." Bumblebee looked up at her, meeting her rage-filled optics. "I'd do anything not to lose him T'ran. If I could change what I am, I'd do it! I promise I'd do it!" He collapsed sobbing back on the floor.

T'ran glared at him in stony silence for a few minutes. Her rage at his admission and his lies tore her to her very core. He was going to hurt Droct far worse than the inferno had, because he was going to tear the mech's very spark in half! She wanted to rip the yellow mech into little pieces with her bare hands. Stomp him into the ground for what he was and the lies he had lived. Make him disappear like he'd never entered their lives.

But she couldn't and she knew it. And as she watched the yellow Autobot sob his spark out, her rage began to cool. For it was obvious that he did indeed love her brother. True, he'd lied about what he was and how he'd come to be in the landfill. But he'd done it to stay with Droct hadn't he? If Droct had known he was an Autobot back then, it would've torn him up, and he'd probably have kicked the mech out. But Bee had given up even more than he'd let on – just to stay with Droct. He'd given up – himself…

Why the hell did a freagin' Autobot have to fall for Droct? Of all mechs that he could've found, it had to be one of them. And now she was faced with this dilemma. She knew she could eventually talk her brother into forgiving Bee for his lies. But could he ever forgive the Autobots? How could he after what they'd done to him? But then an idea coursed through her, an idea that possibly could make everything alright for once.

Kicking the yellow mech with minimal roughness, she got the slogger to quit bawling and look up at her. "Stand up," she ordered. The tone of her voice telling him that he'd better do everything she asked.

Sniffing back his sobs, Bumblebee slowly rose to his peds. His shoulder servos slumped in shame as he stared at the floor.

"Damnit, look at me like a freagin' mech!" she ordered. If he was a damned soldier, then he'd better take it like one.

Hesitantly, he raised his blue optics and met hers. He shifted nervously from ped to ped, knowing that he deserved any punishment she decided to dish out.

"So what's your real name?" she demanded.

"Um, Bumblebee.." he answered, his voice a little weak. Waves of anxiety rolled through him, the truth so hard to speak…

Putting her hands on her hips, she glared at him. "And who's the commander of your post?" she asked. Depending on his post, was his position in the organization. Was he a simple enlisted mech, or an officer?

"Um, Optimus Prime," he admitted. His shoulders drooped even more, for now she knew that he worked in Central Command; the highest command post in the Autobot military.

"So you're a fraggin' officer, huh?" she stated coldly. Now she knew that the Decepticons would never give up looking for the red mech back on that table, since if Bumblebee had 'worked' with that mech, he must be an officer too. With his lies and his actions, this yellow slogger had gone and dragged them smack in the middle of the Autobot/Decepticon civil war. He'd put all their lives at great risk! She fought the urge to smack him around some more for that as well.

"Um, yep.." he wanted to look back down at his toes, but her strong gaze wouldn't release him. He knew she'd quickly figure out that Cliffjumper was likely an officer too. She sure wouldn't be thrilled in the least.

She pushed him against the wall, her face a mere servo-span from his. "You disgust me right now, Bumblebee. You've dragged us into the middle of YOUR damned war and you know it. I just hope nobody gets off lined because of your lies! But for Droct's sake, I'll help you. But there are a few things you've got to promise me." Her engines revved, showing her hot emotions very, very clearly. The bright harshness of her optics showed just how close to violence she really was.

"Anything, T'ran, anything," he stammered, still wanting to disappear into the stone beneath his peds. He was a piece of slag for not having the metal to tell them what he was orbit cycles ago. He knew it, she knew it. And now he'd honestly do anything he could in order to make it right.

"We will convince Droct to forgive you. But after you and your friend get back to your base, you have to come back," her optics bore into his. "You have to bring a real medic to rebuild Droct, to repair what you did."

"I wanted to, but I –"

"I don't care why you didn't, you're going to now. Period!" she growled as she cut him off. "And if he wants you to stay with him, you stay.. If he wants to go, you go.. And if he doesn't want you – you leave afterwards." The tone of her voice had the ring of finality, the fact that there would be no discussion, no negotiation. "You and the rest of your Primus-damned faction need to stay away from us. Leave us to live in peace!"

Bumblebee fought back his sobs, he didn't want to even think about living without Droct. But he knew that their future together was now in Droct's hands. Nausea filled his core as he stared into the angry blue optics of Droct's sister, he didn't feel strong enough to face the mech.

Stepping back from him, she roughly grabbed his arm. Without another word, she began to drag him back up the mine shaft.. Reluctantly, Bee followed her back to the main shaft. His feet felt like they were covered in concrete as he tread heavily on the rock-strewn floor.

"Droct, I need you out here," T'ran called in.

Looking up from his repairs, Droct nodded to the two dancer femmes to keep an optic on the unconscious Autobot. Slowly he straightened up, his faulty shocks screaming in disagreement. Stretching a little, he rubbed his deformed shoulder and walked towards the side shaft. The gentle tap-tap of his metal feet as they hit the stone; filled the stony silence of the mine shaft.

T'ran closed the metal sheet behind them; and motioned for Droct to sit down on the opposite side of the shaft as Yellow.

Confused, Droct looked from his sister, to his bond mate. That yellow mech was sitting, slumped and tearful on the floor. Not even meeting Droct's optics. Sitting down, the garbage mech studied his love with concern. He just wanted to wrap his arms around Bee and tell him that everything would be ok.

"Bee's got something to tell you," T'ran said. She fought down her hot anger. She knew she'd have to keep Droct from off lining the yellow bastard when he found out. She had to be the mediator, regardless of how she felt about it all.

By the tone of her voice, Droct could tell that she wasn't in the mood for any kind of argument from the yellow mech. Just what the devil had Yellow Bee done to make her so mad at him? Droct wondered.

Still keeping his optics glued to the ground, the yellow mech shifted nervously. "I, um, lied Droct. I wasn't a courier mech." Bee admitted. He gulped, trying to ignore the nausea coursing through him.

Droct could almost slice the tension that was in the air. But if he hadn't been a courier mech, what in the sloggers had he been? "Then what were you?" Droct asked innocently.

Bee's shoulders shook in silent sobs. "I'm an Autobot," he admitted; His voice full of shame.

Rage flooded through Droct. He'd shared his very spark with a damned Autobot! And the little freager even knew what had happened. Was this some kind of sick game Bee was playing? Was the physical pain that they had caused Droct not enough – now they had to take his very spark? Standing up swiftly, Droct went to start beating the yellow slogger. He wanted the mech to really feel his pain. Not only the physical pain – but the emotional pain!

But T'ran was in the way, and she wouldn't let him pass. Droct yelled at her to move, but she held her ground. She shoved him back, causing him to hit the wall hard. Then she stood between the two of them, still glaring at Bee for forcing her to do this. "I've already punished Bee for his lies, Droct. And now you're going to listen to how he's gonna repay you." The tone of her voice told her brother he had no choice but to accept the situation. For she had always been kind've the leader of the two of them.

Still looking at the ground, Bumblebee's voice trembled with his shame. "Um, once we get Cliffjumper fixed. He and I will go back to Central Command. I'll come back with the funds I promised the dancers, and, um, a medic to rebuild you." He glanced up timidly, his optics hoping to see any softening in Droct's anger. Any hope that Droct would forgive him.

The garbage mech's optics were hard. He still couldn't believe this damned Autobot had let him fall in love with him, had shared his spark with him. Even though he had known how Droct felt about Autobots. Damned right, the freager owed him a rebuild! The blasted Autobots owed a lot of mechs that. But just because his outside would be fixed, didn't mean his spark would ever be. After this damned yellow Autobot had gone and ripped it in half with his lies.

Standing back up, Droct turned his back on Bumblebee. "Then I guess we need to finish fixing the slaggin' Autobot then," he said coldly. Turning his back on the yellow mech, he had nothing more to say to the one who'd destroyed his very spark.

Back at Central Command….

Ironhide shot Inferno a grin as he gave Prowl a good by hug. "Glad we finally got together," he quipped.

Prowl's face plate stayed emotionless as he optic-ball'd the mech. His deepest fantasy had come out… Been played out in excruciatingly delectable detail that night…. It was something he'd never forget… But there was one item of importance, "This goes no further."

Ironhide chuckled for a moment, his optics gleaming in mischief. This had all been part of his little plan. Now he'd get his preferred job back. "Well, that depends…."

"On what?" Extortion, Prowl should've predicted it. Granted, most mechs wouldn't consider Ironhide the type. Prowl didn't make assumptions like that, every mech was suspect in his optics. That's why he was such a good SIC – he never made the mistake of blind assumptions.

The grin widened on the van's face plate. When he'd brought Sideswipe in 'on the action' – the mech had taught him some interesting philosophies of life. Number one – look out for yourself; number two – figure out how to work others to your advantage. Yep, these new philosophies were going to take him places. Like right BACK on the front lines so that he could give the cons a little pay back! "Well, I been enjoyin' trainin' with my bo and all," he drawled…

Inferno picked the lead in perfectly; he leaned over and set a hand on one of Prowl's doorwings. "But you and I both know he sucks at fire fighting," he whispered with a wink.

Acting as if he'd been insulted, Ironhide glowered at his 'boyfriend'. "Do better with a mech who can teach!" he shot back.

"Can't teach a mech common sense. You'd think a fighter who can shoot a con at twenty-out could figure out which end of a hose to hold." Inferno was loving this. It was fun picking at his room mate without the fear of him getting mad over it.

"Why I never…." Ironhide's optics narrowed and he stalked towards Inferno as if he was going to give him a servo sandwich.

Before it could escalate into violence, Prowl stepped in between them – keeping them apart with spread hands. "Obviously Ironhide is not qualified for the new job duties."

"You got that right!" Inferno snickered, his blue optics gleaming mischievously behind the SIC's shoulder.

Letting his optics smolder as if he was insulted, Ironhide huffed. "Rather do it – than some stupid desk duty!"

Rolling his optics, Prowl knew he'd have to stop this before it escalated on the training grounds. Everyone had already seen the one spat they'd had. Although Prowl would never admit that he had felt the urge to laugh when they'd watched Ironhide sliding across the deck on his back armor – Inferno hitting him with the full flow of a fire hose. "Fine, you will report to the target range next shift. We'll see if you test out of med-hold." With that final statement, he turned on his peds and marched off. His door wings stiff as his back linkages were straight.

The two red mechs stared after him for a moment. Once he'd disappeared and was safely out of audio range, they busted out laughing.

"Primus that was easier than we thought it'd be!" Ironhide laughed.

"Yeah, just don't let Sideswipe know!" Inferno agreed…

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	23. Strengthening Sparks

**Strengthening Sparks**

Bee felt the weak pulse of Cliffjumper's spark against his. It seemed like a scared sparkling that was terrified to look at another. Through the cable connecting them, he pulsed his spark gently against it. His spark asked softly for entrance into the mech's processors, to help Cliffjumper defragment the damage that the cons had done.

The red mech's spark pulsed with uncertainty. Though it faintly recognized the intruding spark as another Autobot, it was scared. The pain from the gangbang was still bright in its core. Bee gently stroked it with his, gently probing, gently caressing. It pulsated against him, hesitantly allowing a brief access. Taking the chance, Bee flowed through, entering Cliffjumper's processors. The weak, terrified spark now surrounded by the blue softness that was Bumblebee.

"He's in," T'ran said. Watching the screen of her hand held monitor, she watched the data from the red Autobot's meta. Standing by the mech's opened helm, she looked over the mech's chassis at her brother.

"Press his legs tighter, I've almost got the connection," Droct said to the dancers that held the mech's legs.

They had Cliffjumper's legs bent and pressed against his body, trying to give Droct the easiest access to the mech's battle processor. Pushing down on his legs, the femmes held him in the awkward position. Reaching his hands further into the abdominal section, Droct finally accessed the terminal data port and plugged his monitor's cable in. Gently pulling his hands out, he punched in a code and began to read the data.

"He's in," Droct informed his sister. He tried to keep his optics off the bright yellow mech standing next to Cliffjumper's shoulder; the mech who had taken his very spark and then stomped on it. Who was now in the process of emergency bonding with his fellow Autobot. Yes, the damned yellow Autobot who he still couldn't help but love.. And Droct hated himself for his weakness.

Faintly, Bee heard them, but his meta was concentrating on his connection with Cliffjumper. He gently surrounded the weak mech's quivering spark. Letting it feel his love. Slowly, the spark let him in further and further. Into the fragmented core that was now Cliffjumper. Finally, Bee was completely in, he had total integration, total access.

He felt Cliffjumper's spark waver in fear as he began to sort through files. Slowing down, he caressed it with his own blue spark; enveloping the spark with comforting waves of calm energy. As his friend's spark relaxed and began to hesitantly enter Bee; the yellow mech dove further into Cliffjumper's shattered programs, completing the full integration of their processing systems.

Slumping to the floor next to Cliffjumper, Bumblebee went into his defragmentation sequence. His programs not only having to go through his own systems, but the red mech's as well.

"Is he going to be ok?" Z'ren asked T'ran. Reaching down with her free hand, she gently rubbed the sleeping mech's helm.

"Yes, he'll be out twice as long as normal. Since he's got two systems to defrag," T'ran told her. Settling herself for a long period of monitoring, she nodded at the dancers to set Cliffjumper's legs back down.

"Hey girls, we didn't miss any fun did we?" CoLene said. She came in with the other two 'decoys' and scoped out the situation with her sharp options. Her light blue chassis danced with the crazy headlights of T'ran and Droct. "So what the heck are you doing with Bee connected to the Autobot?" she asked as she noticed the defragmenting yellow mech slumped on the ground by the table. The thick connection cable ran from inside his chest to the Autobot's.

Z'ren and S'taq were gently lowering the Autobot's legs back into a more 'normal' position. The cable connecting to the monitor that Droct was watching came out from between the mech's legs. Carefully, Droct made sure that the cable didn't rub too badly against any of the melted circuits within the red mech.

Looking up, S'taq grinned at her friends. "Oh that? Well turns out Bee ain't just a courier – he's one of them," S'taq answered her. The tone of her voice showed that she actually seemed to like that fact; made the yellow mech friend of hers, just that much more interesting. She pointedly ignored Droct's glare.

"Really?" CoLene exclaimed. Coming over to the unconscious yellow mech, she helped Z'ren arrange him into a more comfortable position as well.

"Killer! Then he can teach us how to use these!" B'dec exclaimed. She and RiTank pulled out the weapons they had snatched from LongHaul when he'd been knocked out in overload.

T'ran glared at them, disbelief on her face. "You freagin' STOLE the Decepticon's weapons?" she yelled. This was going to make the cons even more enraged – than just losing their 'decoration'!

Twirling the gun in her hand, RiTank snickered. "Well, the slogger didn't have any credits on him, so he had to pay with something didn't he?" Her blue optics glistened in humor as she pointed the gun at the wall and pretended to fire it. The pink painted femme had always wanted to be something besides a prostitute. Maybe helping Bee had now given her the opportunity?

The pink dancer did have a little experience with weapons. A long time ago, she'd had a regular client who was a bounty hunter. He'd taken her on a bunch of hunting trips on the other side of the planet. She'd actually gotten quite good at hitting those fast cyberfoxes. Sighing, she wished he'd come back. But it'd been so long since she'd last seen him, that he'd probably been off lined while hunting a mech down. But now it looked like she might have a second chance – maybe with these Autobots.

Z'ren came over at looked at B'dec's new toy. She was truly amazed that the youngest of the femmes was so bold around those big male Decepticons. "Oh, I just know Bee and his friend will be so happy that we've got some guns now! I can't wait until he wakes up!" she positively beamed at B'dec and RiTank.

T'ran snorted in disgust. It was bad enough that Bee had talked the prostitutes and Droct into helping him rescue his Autobot friend – but now the damned whores wanted to learn how to be like the Autobots and Decepticons! They wanted to shoot and fight it seemed. Granted, with them being dancers, this whole situation shouldn't have surprised her. For they were used to danger and thrilled with excitement.. "So, I guess you dancers are going to try to go with them, huh?" she said sarcastically.

Z'ren optics got bigger. "You think they'd take us all? Wow! That'd be great, wouldn't it?" She almost danced in excitement. The crazy light from their headlights caused her teal paint to almost match her brilliant blue optics.

CoLene looked toward Droct, noticing that he didn't seem thrilled at all by their talk. Realizing that he wasn't happy about Bee actually being an Autobot, she made a blunt comment. "You don't look real happy about Bee, Droct," she dryly noted.

"Well, remember what happened to him?" Z'ren started. She looked down at her feet, realizing the type of internal pain that the dancers' excitement must be causing him.

T'ran cut her off. "Why don't you both shut up right now? Nobody wants to here it." Her blue optics glared at the dancers, challenging them to continue.

CoLene put her hands on her hips. She was used to the rough life of a prostitute, so no mere femme was going to intimidate her. "We're not being mean at all to Droct, so why don't you shut your own synthesizer off, T'ran?" she said in a fairly level tone. Turning towards Droct, she locked her optics with his. "So why aren't you happy Droct? Bee can make them rebuild you in payment for fixing him and his friend."

"I don't want to talk about it," Droct simply said. His tone indicating that that was all that he would say about it. He turned his optics back to the monitor in his hand, trying to ignore the femmes.

S'taq chuckled and sat down on the edge of the shelf rock they were using for Cliffjumper's repair table. Grabbing Droct's hand, she forced him to sit next to her. "Now Droct, mech's come to us to bitch about all their problems and then get a little satisfaction. We've just about heard it all, haven't we girls?" She smiled sweetly to him as she put her arm around him. The red of her paint glistened like fire in the dancing light, only adding to her natural beauty.

"He said he didn't want to talk about it, why don't you all respect the mech?" T'ran challenged. Her optics were still locked in a stare-down with CoLene, and neither femme was giving the other so much as even a blink.

Z'ren went and plopped herself down on the other side of Droct. This was a game that she and her dancing partner were well practiced at. And they could cause the toughest of mechs to break down and tell them their problems. That's why they were some of the more popular dancers. For most mechs wanted more than just some satisfaction, they wanted to feel like someone gave a damn about them. This is why they had so many 'regular customers'. "You're mad because he's been lying for all these years, aren't you?" she said in her gentlest voice.

"And the fact that he's an Autobot. You're still not over that are you?" S'taq said gently. She squeezed Droct's hand and gave the hideous mech an understanding smile.

"How can I get over it? Every time I walk outside…" Droct's voice broke. The way these two femmes worked together was rapidly causing him to break down.

"But Bee stayed next to you, didn't he? He is loyal and understanding.." Z'ren said softly. She was sure that they could talk some sense into Droct, make him realize that he should forgive the cheerful yellow mech.

"He doesn't even judge us, like everyone else does.." B'dec added. Her bright orange and red paint glistened strangely in the headlights that danced about the dark mine shaft; her blue optics shown with her internal pain at being called a 'worthless whore' – when she was simply just trying to survive. She was notorious for getting into fights over it.

RiTank nodded her agreement. "You seem to think you're the only one being ridiculed and degraded, Droct. But a lot of us are. The mechs think because we're beautiful that they can take us, use us, and throw us away when they're done. They don't value us for anything more than a quick thrill. They have no use for us other than that." Wandering over to Bee, she knelt down and rubbed his chest plate gently. "You want to know why we like Bee so much Droct? Because he likes us for whom we are. Not what he can get out of us. And that's a rare mech indeed."

The other dancers all nodded their agreement to her statement.

"Sure he's cute and exotic, Droct – but we aren't after him for that – and you know it. He's not interested in us like that, never will be," Z'ren said. She forced Droct to face her with her fingers on his helm. "He's only interested in you."

"But he's a freagin' Autobot. Every time I look at him now, I feel the burning.." Droct's optics filled with tears and he shuddered as he remembered that terrible day.

"And that's probably why he lied, Droct. He knew how you would feel about sharing yourself with an Autobot. He wanted to spare you that pain," S'taq said. She squeezed the trembling mech gently. Although she'd love to have the bright yellow mech all to herself, she knew he was in love with Droct. And being the practical femme she was, she knew the only right thing to do was to help her yellow friend.

B'dec came over and plopped herself down in his lap, the impulsive femme never even bothered to think if the mech would even want her there. Her optics were mere inches from his. "That 'freagin' Autobot' gave it all up for you, Droct. He even tried to change who he was for you. And now you're just going to throw him out like a piece of rubbish – simply because he can't change what he is? Are you truly that cold?" she challenged Droct. Her optics told him to prove her wrong.

Droct felt his core temperature rise. The dancers were right. Was he truly so callous as to throw Bee's love away – simply because the yellow mech couldn't change what he was? Isn't that what so many of his old friends had done to him when he couldn't change the fact he was now deformed? And that had hurt the most about the accident. Everyone threw his friendship away, and forced him to become a loner.

Tears flowed from Droct's optics, and for the first time in eons, he had three understanding femmes holding him. And not a one was his loyal sister. It was because of Bee that he now had other friends. Bee had taught them to look beyond the physical and see a mech's true worth. The yellow mech had made his life so much better, more bearable. And all that he had asked in return was for Droct to love him. Could he honestly throw the mech out just because he was an Autobot? Could he learn to look past the insignia and judge a mech by his true worth?

Trembling in the femmes' embrace, he now understood why it was so wrong to throw Bee away like that. Bee had so willingly thrown his whole life of riches and excitement away, for him. And all he had wanted was love. Was that such a hard thing to give? And now, he was going to get Droct the rebuild that was so long overdue. But could Droct handle having Autobot hands all over him? Taking him apart at the very seams? He shook in repulsion, but then forced it down. For they were merely mechs under those insignias weren't they? Underneath their guns and violence; their well-maintained and beautiful armor; they were the same naked mechs that he was.

The dancers felt him finally relax in their arms. Grinning triumphantly at each other, they knew they'd done their job.

Looking sheepishly up at them; his new friends that accepted him for being him, Droct said quietly "I guess I could try and forgive the freagin' Autobot for being an Autobot."

T'ran's optics widened in amazement as she heard her brother's quiet words. Her mouth fell open as she stared in disbelief at the whores. M'ron had always told her that dancers could get any mech to talk about their problems – and that the femmes were pretty good at helping a mech sort those problems out. But she'd never believed him in a million orbit cycles; until she saw the dancers actually do it. She felt ashamed now, because she was one of the majority of garbage mechs who tended to look down upon the dancers.

"You know, I've got to say I'm sorry too. I've judged you femmes pretty harshly in the past," she said. Lowering her optics, she went back to her monitoring of Cliffjumper's meta.

Feeling an arm around her shoulders, T'ran looked up into CoLene's optics. The light blue leader of the dancers smiled warmly at her. "Hey, sister, we're used to it. But thanks for the apology."

Back on Cybertron…..

"You'd better say I'm ok or I'll give you a knuckle sandwich," Ironhide growled.

Ratchet looked up from the clipboard, his optics narrowing. It was no secret that he and the van didn't see optic-to-optic, but Ironhide knew better than to dare threaten him.

"Ouch! Primus-damned son-of-a-trash-compactor! Ouch!" the van rolled off of the repair bench, tried to hide from the next swiftly thrown wrench - Which didn't hit him squarely on the helm as the first – but still tagged his aft full-on…. Scampering across the room, he got behind one of the towering tool chests just in time. The medbay rang with the clang of wrench hitting tool chest. "If I had my weapons systems on – you'd be one sorry medbot for that!" he threatened, even as he cowered behind the chest. "Ouch!" This time Ratchet got one to ricochet perfectly off the wall behind him, hitting him square between the shoulder mounts.

"Now who's the sorry bot?" Ratchet purred in an evil tone. Without the slightest bit of effort, he pegged the mech as he darted from one area of cover to another. While he hated the fighting of the civil war – he didn't mind teaching another mech a lesson!

"Frag! Ngggsssttttt!" the red mech ended his frustrated curses with a yelp as his aft section suffered a hard hit. Rubbing his tailpipes, he peered over the top of the cabinet – barely ducking in time as another well-timed wrench whizzed over his helm.

"Ratchet – at ease!" a thunderous voice filled the medbay.

Smirking back at the mech peering out from hiding, Ratchet set down the wrench in his hand. "May I help you Optimus?" he inquired with a totally innocent face plate.

"Would you care to inform me the reason behind the racket emanating from this bay?" The big mech put up his weapon, obviously he had busted in thinking that something terrible was going down. He glanced at Ironhide, who was slowly rising from behind some counters. Whatever the commotion was – it involved the troubled soldier.

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with Optimus," Ratchet said with a dismissive shrug. Going to one of his cabinets, he began to put up the wrenches lying hither and yonder.

"I'm not convinced." Prime glanced from Ironhide to Ratchet and back again. He didn't know if perhaps the red van was having a meltdown or something? Should he com Prowl to deal with this?

"I said it is nothing of concern – I mean it is nothing of concern." The medic's voice dropped by a full octave, the warning obvious to everyone in the room… Turning, he met the much bigger mech's optics – his digits fingering one of his wrenches.

Optimus fought his instinct to turn tail and run like hell. HE was the commanding officer – not Ratchet. So he met the glare boldly. "Is he cleared for duty then?" he demanded with a nod towards Ironhide.

With a snort, Ratchet nodded and set down his wrench. "Yes, he just passed the last systems check – barely, but he passed."

"Good, come with me then," Optimus ordered. Still very tightly controlled, he strode out of the medbay with his dignity still intact. The sound of trotting peds followed behind him.

"Thanks Prime! Now just point me at some Deceptibums and I'll-" Ironhide began.

The big mech cut him off without even turning around to so much as look at him. "I'm assigning you to Prowl's squad again. You are to follow his every order to the tee – is that understood?" It made perfect sense to put him back under the mech who knew him the best…

"Uh, yes sir…." Stopping in his tracks, Ironhide watched the big commander walk away. "Of all the fraggin' junk-haulin' mechs to have to take orders from – again!" he muttered unhappily to himself as he turned and headed towards his quarters.

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	24. What can't be changed

**What Can't be Changed**

Slowly, Bumblebee reactivated each of his systems. Testing them and bringing them back online. But he had a second set of systems to reboot, so his reactivation slowed to a crawl as he automatically proceeded with the same processes twice over for each system.

"Bout time you woke back up Cutie!" CoLene's familiar voice exclaimed. The light blue femme patted his back gently as she knelt beside him.

Activating his optics, he looked up into the bright optics of the blue femme. She stood up over him, offering her hand. A smile spread from audio-to-audio on her beautiful face as Bee grabbed her hand and pulled himself to his peds. The slight metallic clang filling the dark caverns.

"So how'd it go back at the con ship?" he asked. He'd been worried about the three dancers, for even though they were used to bonding with the Decepticons as 'clients' – doing it as decoys was a whole different ballgame.

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him like a sister would. "Now, don't fret about us youngster. We dancers know how to handle cons. Don't we girls?" With a big wink, she made it most obvious about exactly what she meant.

The other two 'decoys' snickered. B'dek whispered something to RiTank concerning certain mech's lack of stamina - which caused Droct and Bee to both blush a little bit. It was hard to get used to the prostitutes' callousness concerning bonding, no matter how long a mech hung around them.

"By the way, they told us that you're a bot. And, um, we kind've borrowed something of LongHaul's." B'dec grinned at him as she lifted the gun she was holding. Her mischievous optics told him that she'd more than merely 'borrowed' the gun.

Bumblebee's mouth fell open in shock, but before he could say anything, he was roughly slapped on the back armour. Turning his head, he found himself looking into the pink dancer's optics. She was holding another gun, a slag-eating smile on her face. "Yep, mech didn't have anything to pay us with, so we took what we decided our services were worth," she snickered, a devious smile on her face. "I know a little about weapons, but you Autobots know a lot more. So you gonna teach us?" She used her most seductive tone on that last part.

Completely stunned at the ingenuity and bravery of the dancers, all Bumblebee could do was nod. This caused all the dancers to whoop in glee. For this would definitely be something fun to learn!

Bumblebee looked over at Droct, hopeful that his bond mate would glance his way. But the mech was busy talking quietly about something with Z'ren. His shoulders drooping, Bumblebee turned his attention back to Cliffjumper. He could feel the mech starting the full reactivation sequence through their integration. A hand touched his shoulder, causing him to look up into T'ran's optics.

"Don't allow him to move Bee. He may panic, and if any of these cables gets yanked, it will cause massive physical trauma to his processors." The serious look in her optics reminded Bee of how he had panicked on several occasions.

Sinking his spark back through their integration, Bumblebee flowed into Cliffjumper's processors. One by one, he shut off the motor systems and put a lock code on them. Coming back into himself, he looked down at his friend's brightening optics. Relief flooded through him as he saw Cliffjumper begin to scan the room, his faceplate fearful as the unfamiliar darkness greeted him. With agonizing slowness, the fearful optics finally settled onto Bumblebee. The red bot gasped, optics widened in surprise. His engines revved as he attempted to move, to reach out and touch Bumblebee to make sure that he was actually real!

Leaning over the Autobot, Bee gently rubbed the side of his helm which had the feeding tube duct taped to it. "Hey Cliff, been a long time," he said gently. He let his spark match his smile, since he knew Cliffjumper could feel him pulsating within him. "It's me inside you old bud. You're safe now."

Because of the tube down his throat, Cliffjumper couldn't activate his voice synthesizer. He stared up at the yellow mech, thinking that he must be off lined or something. For how else could he be seeing and hearing a mech that had been deactivated for cycles? But the discomfort of his unprotected circuitry against the hard stone that he lay upon made him realize that he couldn't be off lined. But then why couldn't he move? Why in the slogger's name did he have a damned tube down his throat?

Deciding that he must, in fact, still be functioning. Cliffjumper scanned around him again. He was in some underground facility, and it was beyond primitive. There wasn't even any lighting, so he had to see everything in the infrared spectrum. There were six femmes standing around him, one of them was holding a monitor that felt like it was connected directly to his meta. He shuddered at the thought. For a mech's meta was their life! Did this mean he'd almost been off lined? Had the freagin' Decepticreeps almost killed him with the gangbang?

His spark wavered when that fleeting thought went through his meta. The fiery sparks invading one after the other.. Tearing his very spark apart piece by piece.. Taking what little remained of his dignity.. Those howls of laughter as they had finally made him scream, made him beg for them to stop.. They'd won, they'd finally broke him..

The shame washed through him as he realized he'd given the cons what they wanted.

If his motor systems hadn't been deactivated and locked, he would've panicked as he fell into his memories. For he felt hands over his naked circuitry. Many hands! He rolled his head side to side in black terror. But then a blue spark washed over him, caressing him, holding him, protecting his shattered spark from any intruders. Coming back into reality, he looked up into his old friend's optics, saw the understanding within them. He knew then that it was truly Bumblebee that was bonded tightly with him. Yes; Sweet, gentle Bumblebee; who'd rather hang out at the base than fight; but who'd never leave his buddy's side in a fight.

"Shhhh, Cliffjumper, these are my friends. We're just putting you back together," the yellow mech said gently. "You're safe now. The Decepticons can't find us here."

The red mech stared up at his friend. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask. But he couldn't until they took this freagin' tube out of his throat. And just why in Vector Sigma couldn't he move!

"I turned off your motor processors, Cliff. We can't chance you moving, since there are direct connections to both of your processors right now," Bee explained. He seemed to know what was going through Cliffjumper's meta.

Standing on the other side of the red mech's head, T'ran looked down at her monitor. Tapping in a code, she frowned at the read out. "He's still thirty percent fragged, you'll need to stay integrated through one more defrag cycle. Think you can do it?" she asked Bee.

Both Bee and Cliffjumper turned their optics to her in perfect synch. The red mech's optics had that same haunted look that Bee had had when they had first found him. T'ran found herself compelled to feel true pity for the red Autobot, for no mech deserved what he and Bee had gone through.

"Yes, I can stay linked for another day cycle," Bee said softly. His optics noticed that T'ran was very close to system exhaustion. "I can monitor him, while you guys get some rest."

T'ran smiled at him, "Thanks Bee, I'm pretty damned fragged." Handing the monitor to him, she went and grabbed an energon cube from the stack on the far wall.

A few of the other femmes all agreed. But they patted Cliffjumper gently, wanting him to feel welcomed.

CoLene leaned over the half-naked mech and tapped him gently on his nose. "Now, you get your rest cutie. Cause you got a lot of femmes that want to talk with you." She winked and smiled warmly at the mech. The gray central part of her helm setting off the deep blue of her optics.

Looking into her beautiful face, Cliffjumper wondered just where in the hell Bumblebee of all mechs, had found all these gorgeous femmes. He couldn't believe that he had six of them surrounding him. His engine increased it's rpms a little, when he realized that he was lying here half-naked in front of these femmes. Not that he was shy or anything, but small mechs like him, generally didn't attract the good looking femmes. But then, how in Primus' name had Bumblebee done it?

"Let's get this second monitor out of him before we go crash. I think the meta monitor will be enough, um, don't you think T'ran?" Droct asked. He avoided looking directly at Bumblebee as he glanced questioningly at T'ran.

"True, Bumblebee can keep tabs on that one through his integration," T'ran agreed. Nodding toward S'taq and Z'ren, she silently asked them to fold Cliffjumper in position for the removal of the monitor connection.

As the two gorgeous femmes grabbed his legs and bent them to his chest, Cliffjumper looked up at Bumblebee in total confusion. Then he felt hands probing into his aft. Looking down, his optics widened in terror as the most hideous mech he'd ever seen, was thrusting his hands into him. A blaze of fear rolled through him.. He was going to be raped again! The hands were deep within him, touching his very processor! His spark jumped in sheer terror, wanting to stop the hideous mech, deny that he was within him..

"Shhh Cliffjumper, he's not hurting you. He's just disconnecting the cable," T'ran's voice said. Cliffjumper felt her fingers rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

"He's our main medic here, Cliff. He won't hurt you," Bumblebee added. He was glad that T'ran had told him to shut off Cliffjumper's motor controls. She'd been very right with her prediction that the red mech might freak.

Hearing their words, Cliffjumper wasn't exactly convinced. If this mech was a medic, then why in the heck did he look like a bunch of mismatched parts? He was hideous! And he had his hands….. Cliffjumper's core filled with utter disgust. For he couldn't believe that this ghastly wreck was accessing his most sensitive regions! Waves of revulsion washed through him.

"Here we go," Droct finally unplugged the cable from the battle processor's port. Slowly, he began to carefully pull his hands out from Cliffjumper's abdomen. "Sorry it took so long," he said to the red mech. Nodding to the femmes to put Cliffjumper's legs back down, he patted the mech's leg.

Coming up to Cliffjumper's head, Droct forced him to face straight up. The red mech felt his core squirming with nausea as the ghastly mech probed deep inside his mouth with a digit. He tried to look at one of the femmes, pretend that it was one of them doing this. Not this hideous piece of slag.. Finally, the ugly 'medic' removed his digit and let him settle his head into a more natural position.

"I'll give him a little more energon," Droct said to the group. "You femmes go on and get some sleep; I'll get some in a bit." He walked over to the stack of cubes.

As the femmes filed out of the room, Droct glanced up at Bee. The yellow mech was gently petting the side of his friend's helm, warm concern in his blue optics. That expression made Droct's spark want to jump out of his chest, for that was the mech he'd fallen in love with. The one that'd do anything for a friend, take any chance. But, Bee was an Autobot. And even though Droct had told the dancers that he could forgive him for that – could he really? Could he ever – kiss – an Autobot?

His optics fell onto the half-naked Autobot lying on the stone slab table. The Autobot was just a naked mech like him under all that beautifully maintained armor – wasn't he? Wasn't Bee the same as well? They all felt the same pain, felt the same passion, felt the same love – didn't they?

The dancers were right. Bee couldn't change what he was, anymore than Droct could change what had happened those eons ago. They couldn't change their pasts. The paths that their lives had taken prior to the convergence of the paths into this singular one… They were both products of their histories, tempered in both pain and war. But despite that, they had found each other. And Droct couldn't change the fact that they had fallen in love with each other.

Behind his mask, Droct's lower lip trembled. He knew Bee still wanted to be with him. That's why he'd lied in the first place. But could he actually kiss Bee again? Kiss an Autobot? Fighting down his anxiety, Droct knew he'd have to find out. For both himself and Bee! And with the femmes having all left to find cubbies to curl up in, his chance was now.

He had to find out… find out if he could actually kiss an Autobot.

Picking up an energon cube, he slowly walked towards the two Autobots. His footsteps made the soft tap of metal hitting stone. With every step, he fought the nervous rising in his core….

Back on Cybertron…..

"Just act like nothin' ever happened," Inferno advised. Carefully, he lifted the hoses they'd just finished using, lifting one end high so that gravity could remove the last drops of fluid from them. Firefighters took care of their tools, and no tools were more important than your hoses.

"Yeah, guess so." Ironhide paused, rubbing his chin in consternation. "But what IF he expects a second encounter?"

The Firetruck laughed, his chassis vibrating deep in his torso. "We're monogamous now. I'd kick your aft if you gave him a second taste."

The van stopped and looked at him in shock for a moment – then the humor of it rumbled through his thick processor. "Oh yeah, we're monogamous – right." He still wasn't used to this whole act of being in a mech-on-mech relationship. Probably never would be either! "Just remember – we ain't really that way. Don't wanna be wakin' up with your ugly tailpipes all over me!"

Inferno paused with his hose maintenance. "I'm hurt. You don't looooooooovvvvveee me anymore!" he teased.

Grinning, Hide slapped him on a shoulder plate. "Yes-siree! First interested Femme that comes 'round gonna take me away from ya so fast your sirens' gonna go off!" he promised.

"Keep dreamin," the bigger mech laughed.

"Dreamin bout leavin' you that's for sure!"

"No, dreamin' that you'll find any femme that'll be interested in your rusted aft," Inferno shot back.

Ironhide pranced around like a prize astrorooster. "Femme'd be lucky to get a piece of this aft." He grinned and pointed at Inferno's aft. "Now yours – no way!"

The firetruck straightened his servos to his full height and looked down at his friend. "I'd lay a bet down with Swindle himself that I could get a femme faster than you!"

The mech considered that idea. With a snicker, he held his hand out. "Yeah, I'll take ya up on that bet. I guarantee that I can do it faster!"

As Inferno's digits interlocked with his, a familiar voice startled them both. "And just what are you two betting on? Hmmmm."

"Ahhh Slag-it – it's freakin Prowl!" Ironhide grumbled.

The tactician rounded the corner, eyeing both of them suspiciously. "Do I need to remind you both that gambling is in violation of two-dash-five-three-six of section eight paragraph five." His digits fingered his handcuffs in silent threat.

The van rolled his optics in disbelief. This dork WOULD have the whole freakin' code of conduct book memorized! Frantically, he tried to think up a good comeback to throw at him…. However, Inferno beat him to the punch line.

"And having encounters on the side while in an officially recognized committed relationship violates," Inferno scratched his helm as if he'd forgotten something, "Help me here Prowl – I've forgotten the exact code number." His 'innocent' grin was pure malice.

That particular code query had the immediately desired effect on the stoic tightwad. His gray cheeks burned hotly and his entire demeanor went from being the one in control – to being the nervous one. Unable to speak due to his embarrassment, he clenched and unclenched his hands as his processor raced uncontrollably.

Taking Inferno's lead (and reminding himself to thank his 'bond mate' later) Ironhide acted the part of a smooth operator. Walking forward, he put an arm across Prowl's shoulder mounts and turned him to walk along with him. "Ahhhh, we don't worry none 'bout codes and rules and little uh indiscretions here-n-there – now do we little buddy?" he snickered. It felt so good to be in total control around his executive officer for once…

"Ye – yes… Well, um, we need to, um, discuss the new security, um, perimeter.." Prowl stammered, still blasted in the processor over the threat of codes being used against HIMSELF…. "I mean, uh, New perimeter security."

"Now that's how we do things Prowl. See we work together," Ironhide drawled as they walked.

The clang of heavy peds followed them, Inferno running up. "Hey guys!"

The pair turned around, Prowl still not exactly himself. "Yeah bud?" 'hide grinned.

"Well," Inferno glanced from one to the other – as if he was unsure about letting them be alone together. The perfect 'somewhat jealous mechfriend' act. "I was wondering if I could join the security force? You know, get a little payback for Cliffjumper and all."

"Well I dunno." Ironhide winked at him, "can you aim a gun as well as you aim a hose?"

They all laughed as they walked towards central command.

Please review. I know it has been a while – just been slammed with real life.


	25. A Simple Kiss

**A Simple Kiss**

Droct walked up to Cliffjumper's head, noticing that Bee shifted nervously as he stood next to him. Glancing up, he saw Bee quickly lower his optics to the floor in shame. Sighing inside, Droct knew that the dancers were so right – Bee did actually love him. And the yellow mech was truly ashamed that he'd lied all these years. A wash of warmth flew across his neural nets. A recognition that he might actually be able to forgive the mech for being who he was… Maybe look past it… Live again as mates….

Looking down at the red mech, he could see the standard look of repulsion in the Autobot's optics. Anger briefly flooded his core, for he'd gotten so tired of every mech judging him by his appearance. And wasn't it the Autobots to blame? But he pushed his anger aside, knowing that this red mech didn't know what had happened. So he couldn't blame the mech for his reaction. Heck, Droct himself would probably have the same reaction to a mech who looked like him. Perhaps Bee would tell him while Droct defragged? The yellow mech did owe Droct that. Yes, that much – and a lot more..

Turning Cliffjumper's head to the side, Droct put the funnel on the end of the feeding tube. "Sorry this stuff ain't the best, but it's all we've got," he apologized even as he poured half of the cube slowly down the tube.

Cliffjumper wanted to bolt out from under the ghastly medic's hands. Not only was he totally repulsed by the very thought of this mech even being in the same room as him, but now the slogger was apologizing even as he poured the worst grade of energon down his throat that he'd even had the misfortune of tasting! Disgust and revulsion flooded through the red mech's core. It wasn't that he was overly concerned about appearances or the quality of energon he consumed – damned if this wasn't the lowest of the low on both counts! But, here Bumblebee was forcing him to endure it. As soon as this tube was removed, he was sure going to give that yellow mech a piece of his meta!

As he tube fed the red mech, Droct looked at Bee outt've the corner of his optic. His bond mate was still shifting nervously and looking down at the ground. His blue spark pulsating within his open chest, connected to the red mech's spark through the cable. Droct guessed he should feel a little jealousy that Bee was sharing his spark with another. Yet he knew the mech was only doing it to save this Autobot's aft. After all, any one of his beautiful dancer friends would bond with him at no charge – wouldn't they? But for cycles Bee had only wanted to share his spark with one mech. And that was Droct.

So instead of jealousy, Droct looked at Bee with a sense of wonder flooding through him. It was truly amazing the lengths that the yellow mech would go through for a friend! No wonder he was stationed at Central Command. And they must've really missed him for all these cycles. His spark waivered at the thought of what pain Bee's disappearance must have caused them. Anyone with half a spark would love this yellow mech. Love him – yes love him!

But then Droct thought about the future. What would the Autobots think about him? Even if they rebuilt him and gave him a chassis that gave him the ability to fight – would he be able to? Especially after being one of the unfortunate souls caught in between the two factions - He doubted he'd ever be able to raise a gun. He'd be too busy worrying about the bystanders. But if he thought he wanted to stay with Bee, he knew the Autobots would want the yellow mech back. And if he didn't come back, then the Autobots might come to this planet to try and talk some sense into him. Then they'd meet up with the cons that did business with the miners – and the whole scenario of the cycle of violence would again occur. With innocent miners caught in the middle. Always caught in the middle!

Droct sighed, watching the energon slowly trickle down the tube and into his reluctant patient. He couldn't deny that he still loved Bee. Even though it tore him apart that the freager was an Autobot! And if he could actually kiss him, then he knew he'd never want to let the yellow mech go. However, could he actually live amongst the violent Autobot faction? Face the fact that they eagerly went into battle, time-and-time again? Did he want to chance that – by trying to kiss the mech again?

But he had to know…. Had to know if he could…. He'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try…

Tipping the cube back upright, he stopped the tube feeding right at half a cube. Taking the funnel off, he quietly said to Bee "Wait about an astrohour or so, and then you should be able to pull the feeder tube. Just do it slow and gentle. I figure he'll be able to swallow well-enough after the next defrag cycle."

Bee simply nodded, keeping his optics glued on Cliffjumper. Still afraid to meet Droct's optics, afraid he'd still see the disgust and quiet rage within the garbage mech.

Droct willed himself to stay calm; he knew how he'd go about this. He just had to know. And he really didn't care what the red mech thought about it. After all, Bee was supposedly his bond mate, wasn't he? And the red Autobot would just have to understand..

Taking off his mask, Droct drank the rest of the energon cube down and then set the empty cube on the stone slab next to the red mech's head. He'd figured that it would seem like a rather good excuse to take his mask off. He pointedly ignored the red mech's look of total revulsion at seeing his bare scarred face. The slogger would know soon enough that it was his own faction's fault wouldn't he? Droct felt the courage well up in him. The courage to find out… To find out if he could actually kiss a freagin' Autobot.

"Bee, look at me," he said. His normally soft voice had a slight hardness to it. He didn't want to pause – to go slow.. If he tried – he might back on out of it all!

Hesitantly, Bumblebee looked up at his bond mate's bared face. He hadn't dared to since he woke up, afraid that all he'd see was disgust in those blue optics. Disgust that was well-founded, for Bee was nothing but a pathetic Autobot liar. Suddenly, Droct's lips were on his. His soft glossa probing Bee's, almost questioning in its entrance. At first, Bee was completely shocked, unable to respond. But then he realized that Droct was truly kissing him. Wrapping his arms around his bond mate, he met Droct's glossa with his own. Delving deeply into the warmth recesses of the garbage mech's mouth with the softness of his living metal. Trembling with elation that Droct even wanted to kiss him!

Feeling the yellow chassis tremble against him, Droct wrapped his arms around him. Desperation filled him as he pressed his lips even tighter to Bee's. He could kiss an Autobot! He could look past Bee's insignia! Elation flowed through him as Bee's glossa entered his mouth. Bee's soft lips were his, forever his! Pressing his chassis against Bee's, Droct could feel the mech's spark pulsing along the cable connecting him to the red Autobot. He didn't care. For Bee's entire being was his! No matter whom he had to 'share' his spark with.

Cliffjumper couldn't help but watch. His optics widened in absolute horror as his gorgeous yellow friend seemed to be WELCOMING the ghastly mech's kiss. He shook his head back and forth, thinking that his meta must have a major glitch. Here was Bumblebee, surrounded by absolutely stunning femmes – and he was kissing the ghastly medic! Even Optimus himself would have a damned hard time understanding this one, Cliffjumper was sure of that! Primus, he couldn't wait until Bee pulled this stinking tube out of his throat. He needed to talk some sense into the yellow mech. For what Bee was doing over him – was absolutely disgusting! To say the least….

Slowly, the two separated. Bumblebee staring into his bonded's optics, wanting to believe that everything was truly ok between them. He searched the scarred face, praying, hoping…

Droct ran his digits along the gorgeous mech's cheek. His blue optics finally soft again as he met Bee's pleading orbs. "Sorry Bee, I just wanted to see if I still could.." he softly explained. He desperately hoped that Bee hadn't been offended by his forwardness. But he'd just had to know…

Bee's lower lip trembled, "Can you?" he asked. He knew that it was far more than just if Droct could kiss him that was at stake.

Droct lowered his optics and walked towards the other mine shafts. He answered Bee with the one word that the yellow mech had been praying for. "Yes." Then he was gone, to find a quiet spot to lie down and defragment.

Bumblebee's spark brightened in intensity, almost overwhelming the red mech he was currently bonded with. Looking down at the red mech, Bee hugged him excitedly. "Did you hear that Cliffjumper? He loves me! He really, really does!"

The red mech stared at him in absolute shock. Bumblebee was in love with that rust bucket? Cliffjumper just couldn't believe his audios, so he quickly ran a check on them. What the hell? There was nothing wrong with them. So Bumblebee was truly in LOVE with the most grotesque mech that Cliffjumper had ever had the misfortune of laying his optics on.

As Bee stood up, and slowly began to pull the feeding tube out of his throat. Cliffjumper knew he had more questions than ever for his friend to answer…

….. Back on Cybertron…..

The clang of metal on metal rang out across the landscape as Inferno plopped himself wearily down next to Ironhide. The echoes continued across the battered landscape that stretched out in front of them, dancing around from skeletal building to skeletal building until it finally blended into the drone of the wind.

"Dontcha tell me that a little security round has gotcha energy systems low," 'Hide chuckled under his breath. Shifting his weight, he set his weapon across his legs, ready for any con he might chance seeing.

The firefighter gave a heavy sigh, yet didn't speak a word. No, he was not low on energon. The laughter and bragging of a much loved comrade was ringing through his memory banks. The echoes of that cycle-dead mech's life had been flitting across his processor all day cycle. He simply couldn't get Cliffjumper off his meta it seemed. And the old familiar sensation of guilt crushing his core was slowly sneaking back….

When there was no reply, the red van looked up at his so-called bond mate with concern in his blue orbs. It wasn't like Inferno not to have a quick comeback to every comment he made. That's what had made them best friends. That's how they had survived this long-running act together. "Ya ok bud?"

Those three simple words blasted the last of Inferno's waivering self-control. Was he ok? How could HE be ok while Cliffjumper was nothing but ash floating in Cybertron's thin atmosphere! How could HE be ok? Tears filled his optics. Tears of pain… guilt…. Frustration… "I…. I…." he couldn't say anything! He had no right to still be alive while his charge was dead! His chassis shook with held-back sobs…

Realizing what orbit day cycle it was, Ironhide realized his error. Guilt and empathy washed over the roughneck's circuits as he met Inferno's tortured stare. "Forgot the anniversary, I'm real sorry Bud," he offered in a tone so low it was barely perceptible over the wind.

"Yeah" the word came out as more of a sob. He turned his optics away from the van and looked across the devastation. The war had devastated everything – his friends… his life…. His very world.. Nothing but devastation.. And nothing seemed to ever change. He almost wanted to give up.. Give in.. Leave this travesty that was his existence and join Cliffjumper's spark. Wander freely amongst the energy of the cosmos…

Uh-oh.. Ironhide thought as he realized just how black Inferno's mood had gone. He'd seen this side of the Firetruck before – even been there himself. Scooting closer to the larger mech, he ignored his homophobia and wrapped a comforting arm around his friend. "One day this'll all be behind us. We'll make the Decepticreeps pay for all they've done. Cliff's and Bee's sacrifices' won't be in vain!"

Inferno sniffed and wiped away the tears before they could stream down his faceplate. Ironhide was right. Offlining himself now would just mean the evil 'cons had taken down another one of them. He couldn't leave this planet, their future, in the hands of the enemy. Cliffjumper would've kicked his aft for even contemplating the idea of giving up. "Yeah, you're right. Just gets to me sometimes." His arm drifted over the shouldermounts of his friend without either of them noticing.

They continued to talk for a while. Remembering the bright young lives they so dearly missed. Neither one pay attention to any Autobots that might be watching – might be listening…

Prowl ground his dentals together in frustration as he observed their intimate moment in total silence; He desperately wanted to join them, but he was uncomfortable around mechs when they showed emotion. He'd never learned how to deal with emotionally-charged scenarios – well, except for those involving battle of course. To adapt to his lack of empathy he'd learned to hide his own emotions. It was pointless to expect others to assist him when he cried if he couldn't assist them when they cried – so his philosophy was to never cry….

He cringed a bit (a simple narrowing of the edges near his optics not a fully expressed cringe by any means) as the two mechs put their arms around each other. He could feel a memory echo of when they had put those arms across his shoulder mounts. His engine revved in a low rumble, for of course that sensation had culminated in the most processor-blowing interface session he'd ever experienced. But no, he stomped down those emotional responses. It was beneath him as an officer to reminisce over past encounters – much less long for them. He was Prowl – he was in control.

Turning away, the officer shrugged off any emotions concerning the event and went on his way. There was no con activity in this sector; it was time to go check the next. Without even a glance back at the pair, he rejoined Bluestreak and Jazz on their rounds.

"Hey man – where ya been? We've been wondering if we'd have to come a lookin' for ya?" Jazz's faceplate lit up like a concert light show as he transformed and patted Prowl on a doorwing.

Poor Jazz, so totally unaware of the raw emotions rolling under the surface of his prim and proper hood – thought Prowl. In a way, the cheerful mech was truly the best match for him. Always happy to see him, always happy with what little time he had to give. No, Jazz didn't ever demand much. Except for the times he showed up unannounced and horny as hell in his office and did that little dance …. Which was…. Well….. – Prowl could feel his faceplate heat up at the memories.. Again, shaking the emotions off – he did nothing outwardly more than nod at Jazz. No, no emotion – no smile – nothing more. "Inferno and Ironhide are keeping their optics on this sector – let us move on." With that cryptic reply, he transformed to alt mode and headed out.

"And just how is it that you fell for him – and not me?" Bluestreak snickered to Jazz.

"Man, I couldn't tell ya. Love's funny like that," Jazz quipped. Transforming, he fell in behind the sharpshooter as they continued on the patrol.

… Please review… I'll write some more whenever life slows down for a day!


	26. Understanding

**Understanding**

Cliffjumper couldn't stop himself, the second the tube was completely out of his mouth, he glared up at Bumblebee and exclaimed "What in Vector Sigma?" He still couldn't get the picture of Bumblebee lip-locked with that ghastly mech out of his meta! Heck, they'd kissed right over him. So what'd Bee expect?

His yellow friend's optics widened in surprise. These were not the words he'd expected from Cliffjumper. Maybe something more like 'you're alive?' or 'we're BOTH alive?' or something like that. Not this look of total and absolute disgust. Looking down at his peds, he knew precisely what the red mech was referring to. His spark sunk as he realized how used to being around the accepting dancers he'd become – how completely different the Autobots would react to Droct. His rather meek nature cringed back from Cliffjumper's glare, and he wasn't in the mood to fight with the more aggressive mech over it. He just wanted them to move on. "What do you mean?" he inquired in his most innocent tone. Maybe Cliff would get the hint that this wasn't something worth discussing?

Cliffjumper's optics widened in amazement, the freager had to know what he was talking about? "I find you – alive. When we all have thought you were off line FOR ORBIT CYCLES! You're surrounded by some of the prettiest femmes I've ever laid optics on. And you're kissing THAT? – THAT RUST BUCKET?"

"Well, you're welcome for us rescuing your aft," Bumblebee snorted - in a desperate attempt to avoid answering Cliffjumper's actual question.

The red mech glared at him. He wasn't the least bit fooled. "Ya, Thanks a bunch. But you're avoiding the question." He cocked his head, giving the yellow mech an expectant look.

"Oh that? Um, Droct's my bond mate," Bee answered simply. He shifted uneasily, understanding Cliffjumper's disgust at it – but not really knowing how to go about talking about it.

"Your BOND MATE? Sloggers Bumblebee, do you have a major glitch or something? Just look at the freager!" Cliffjumper exclaimed. His spark pulsed tightly against Bumblebee's, showing his true disgust at Droct's hideous appearance.

Bumblebee felt rage began to burn in him, not exactly an emotion that he normally felt. His circuits flamed in outrage at the insult. Droct was HIS bond mate, and Cliffjumper should have at least enough respect for him not to insult his bond mate! He wanted to slap the red mech, but stopped himself. He knew he would face this same reaction from the other Autobots once he brought Droct back. So he had to figure out a way to make them understand, make them see their own guilt for Droct's appearance. Hoping that Droct wouldn't get mad, Bee knew he had to tell Cliffjumper why Droct looked the way he did.

"Yes, I know what he looks like Cliffjumper. And it's fraggin' us that are to blame for it!" Bumblebee looked at the red mech, his tone of voice telling his friend that he was very serious.

"Why in Vector Sigma are we to blame for it? Doesn't he have a good medic to go to?" Cliffjumper demanded. His optics were bright with his disagreement to Bee's words.

"We're to blame for it, because it was our missiles that caught the coal mine on fire. The coal mine that he was surveying," Bee said evenly. He didn't want to have to say the entire story again; it was far too painful for him to even think about.

"Well, he must've been doing business with the cons then. We don't go around firing missiles unless they're earned!" Cliffjumper said self-righteously. If he could move, he would've crossed his arms to emphasize his point.

"Yes, and we're wrong, Cliffjumper. All these mechs want to do is to survive. Just make enough credits to purchase the lowest grade of energon. We're blind Cliffjumper, we're completely blind! And we've hurt far more civilian mechs than we'll ever know." Bumblebee got down into Cliffjumper's face, his optics mere inches from his friend's. "Do you realize how many mech groups hate us Cliffjumper? And they don't hate us because they support the Decepticons either. They hate us because they're caught in the middle, and when they hear us spouting off our fraggin' self-righteousness – all they see is the multitude of innocent mechs that our missiles have destroyed. And we turn our backs on them and tell ourselves that they deserved it." Bumblebee's voice became low and sad. "They don't deserve it Cliffjumper. They just want to live in peace. Outside of our war! And we drag the sloggin' war onto their back roads! Forcing them to get hurt."

With that final statement, Bee sat down on the edge of the stone slab and turned his back armor to Cliffjumper. He was disgusted by his friend's reaction. And the disgust ran ever deeper as he realized that he was once just as guilty as Cliffjumper, in thinking that way.

In shock at his friend's passionate words, Cliffjumper bit back the sharp retort he was fixing to utter. He mulled over Bumblebee's words. If this was true, and that Droct was this hideous because of Autobot missiles, then why in Primus' name was he now bonded to an Autobot? Surely he'd hate all Autobots, just as Bumblebee said so many of these mechs did.

"Then why doesn't this mech hate you Bee?" Cliffjumper asked. His optics showed his confusion at this contradiction.

Keeping his back to him, Bee's spark pulsed at his question. He had to admit to Cliffjumper that he was a liar. Had to admit that he'd chosen Droct over the Autobots! How would the red mech take it? "When Droct found me; I couldn't see, I couldn't speak… He spent his limited funds in rebuilding me, Cliffjumper.. And I fell in love with the mech – even before I laid my optics on him.." Bee lowered his head, looking at the ground. "Right before the parts came in to fix my vocals, I found out what had happened to make him look this way. I found out that he hated Autobots.." He shuddered a little with that memory. "I couldn't leave him, Cliffjumper. I owed him too much; we Autobots owed him too much. I was the first mech to come along that even wanted to kiss him. He had no one besides me… So I lied to him.. I didn't tell him that I was an Autobot.."

There was a long silence as the red mech chewed over those words. In a sense, he understood where Bumblebee was coming from. But to deny that he was an Autobot? That was outrageous! Bumblebee could've had Droct rebuilt by Ratchet cycles ago.. But then again, if Droct hated Autobots – would he have wanted Ratchet's hands on him? It made sense that he wouldn't. And knowing Bumblebee's personality, Cliffjumper knew he'd do anything he thought he could – to make another mech happy.. He gulped in disbelief at the lengths that Bumblebee had gone to, to make this hideous mech 'happy'..

Looking over at his yellow friend, he realized Bee was a better mech than he'd ever be. For there's no way he'd be able to live for cycles and cycles, amongst the poorest most pathetic of mech groups – all because he loved someone.

After several minutes of silence, Cliff's strangely muted voice whispered "Bumblebee.. I think I understand where you're coming from buddy," he finally admitted.

Bee turned around, meeting Cliffjumper's optics with his brilliant blue orbs. "You do?" he asked.

"Ya, I do.. I couldn't have done it, but I kind've understand." The red mech smiled at his friend. He enjoyed the look of pure happiness that passed over Bumblebee's face.

Carefully, Bee moved the meta monitor and then gathered his limp friend into his and gave him a big hug.

"You know, this'd be easier if you'd take those lock codes off my motor network," Cliffjumper whispered in his audios.

Bumblebee laughed, a little embarrassed, before diving back through their integration and unlocked Cliffjumper's motor networks. Joy filled him, as the red mech returned his hug.

Lying back down, Cliffjumper carefully held the monitor that was plugged into his exposed meta. His uninsulated systems were getting a little too cool in the lower temps of the mine shaft, but he didn't know what he should do about it.

Still primarily relying on his infrared sensors to see in the blackness, Bumblebee noticed Cliffjumper's too-cool chassis. "Oh, that's not good. Let me try and warm you up a little. Ok?" he said.

As Cliffjumper nodded his agreement and shifted over across the tarp-covered stone slab, Bumblebee lay down next to him and pulled the edges of the tarp over the top of them both. Letting the naked red mech press into his chassis, Bee revved his rpms a little higher. The excess heat that he generated flowed into the cold mech next to him. It was a lot like the first time that he'd snuggled up to Droct so long ago…

"So tell me Bumblebee, are any of those femmes single?" Cliffjumper asked. He thought it was quite funny to be pressed up against Bee like this, their faces just inches apart, a cable connecting their systems and sparks. And all Bee was interested in, was that ugly garbage mech. So he figured, he might as well see if any of the femmes might be single.

"Well, except for T'ran, all the femmes are single," Bumblebee answered. He knew the femmes would be very pleased that Cliffjumper was even asking. "But you got to know something before you go approaching any of them, ok?"

Enjoying the warmth, Cliffjumper shrugged "What?"

"Well, um, they're dancers," Bee admitted. He didn't want Cliffjumper to go spouting off some self righteous crap in front of them. Especially CoLen or B'dec – they'd have to peel those two off his aft if he pissed them off.

Cliffjumper's optics got big at the connotations – Autobot culture basically dictated that femmes with morals that low weren't to be noticed, much less made friends with. Prostitutes were simply untouchable to the honorable Autobots. "Primus, are you serious? Then why in the heck are you hangin' out with them?"

"Because they're good inside, just like Droct is. There's just no other way for them to earn a living on this rock. They just do what they have to." Bumblebee hoped Cliffjumper would start getting a clue about real life. For more often than not, mechs were stuck doing what they had to in order to survive. That fact was another thing that Autobots just didn't seem to understand.

"There's really nothing else here?" Cliffjumper's optics widened in shock, where he was from – there were always choices.. Always..

Bumblebee shook his head sadly. There really wasn't anything else they could do. He wished there was, but there wasn't.

"Damn, this really is a horrid place to live, huh?" The red mech was silent as he considered living in a place where you had no choice but to be a prostitute or collect recyclables. He couldn't even imagine living like that.

"And you want to know the funny part?" Bumblebee asked. He knew that this story would really blow Cliffjumper's meta.

The red mech turned his optics back towards him. "What?"

"Well, they're the ones who pretty much rescued your aft." Bumblebee smiled as he put the rescue onto the dancers. All he had really done was to plan it. The 'decoys' had done the real work.

"Are you serious?" Cliffjumper couldn't believe what he was hearing. A bunch of whores swiped his aft right out from under the Decepticons olfactory sensors? No way….

"Ya, they strapped your tail pipes to the front of their ship. Some kind of sick joke or something…" Bee paused as he remembered his first sight of Cliffjumper. "That's when we spotted you. So when night fell, three of the dancers distracted the two guards while the rest of us cut your aft down. Then we drove like hell."

"They distracted them? You mean they - ?" Cliffjumper didn't have to finish his question, Bumblebee knew what he was thinking and he simply nodded. The red mech whistled. "And they did THAT for a mech they didn't know?" This just blew his meta!

"Well, I kind've bribed them a little. Told them you were Prime's right hand mech and stuff," Bee admitted. He blushed a little at the brashness of his lie.

"Sloggers? Me, his right hand mech? More like you.." Cliffjumper snorted. But he had to admit, it was kind've cool that the dancers would think he was the right hand mech.

"You wanna hear the funniest part?" Bumblebee couldn't help but chuckle a little bit.

"It gets even better? How?" His optics lit up in fascination.

"Two of them stole both of LongHaul's weapons after he overloaded," Bumblebee snickered. He could picture the con's face after finding his guns gone. He couldn't even begin to imagine what happened when they realized their 'decoration' was missing as well. Must've been a really bad day to be LongHaul!

Cliffjumper broke out laughing. "You got to be kidding!" he stammered in between chuckles. He could picture the look on that particular Decepticon's face when he rebooted, it was – priceless…

"Nope, gets even better. You want to hear the rest?" Bumblebee grinned.

"No fraggin' way? There's more?" Cliffjumper quieted himself down to listen.

"They want us to teach them how to shoot. I think they want to go with us," Bumblebee whispered.

At this Cliffjumper wailed in laughter, energon tears rolling from his optics. He'd never thought once in a million years that he and Bumblebee would be teaching hookers to become soldiers! But damn, if the femmes were bold enough to rescue Autobots completely unarmed – what in Vector Sigma would they do when armed? "Primus, I'd hate to be a con and face these dancers!" he hooted..

….. Meanwhile, back on Cybertron…

With an elbow joint, Ironhide tried in vain to hold the poster in place as he fumbled with the roll of tape. "Ah-ha! You little slogger – thought you could get away again!" he snickered as he was finally successful in peeling a piece off of the roll. Triumphant, he curled the piece and stuck it to one of the top corners of the poster – right before the poster slid out from under his elbow joint and fell… Taping itself right to his windshield… "of all the cotton-pickin' Primus-cursed inventions…." He grumbled as he carefully peeled the poster off of his windshield and began the juggling process all over again for the tenth time..

"Gotta problem there partner?" a familiar voice asked as the door slid open.

Glancing over his shoulder at his roommate – ahem, bondmate – the van nodded. "Yeah, gotta get something good to look at in here. Whacha say ya give me a little hand?"

The easy going firetruck nodded as he reached out to catch the poster before it fell again. Rolling it open against the wall above Ironhide's berth, he hummed in approval. "Nice set of hubcaps on her."

Ripping off another piece of tape, Ironhide nodded. "Yep, her paint job's so sweet that 'ol Sunstreaker'd have a hissy next to her."

"Yep, sure would. What about those low profile tires… mmmmmmm.." Inferno winked at his friend in approval for his choice of pinups. He'd sure enjoy fantasizing about her when 'Hide wasn't around that's for sure!

"Now don't be getting' too fresh on my femme – ya hear!" he snickered as he finished taping her up.

"Well then, ya'll need to help me with mine. Make us even," the firetruck drawled. Going over to his berth on the opposite side of the room, he bent down and pulled out a long box from underneath and began flipping through his selection. "Now let's see here. Do we want Miss Galactica – or Miss Universe – or….."

Ironhide's interest was piqued. Wandering over, he helped Inferno sort through the obnoxiously large collection of pin-ups. Some of which were WAY beyond G-rated. "Geese, how many of those do ya have there ol' bud?"

Pulling a very, shall we say 'hardcore', pin-up out – Inferno studied it with a well-practiced optic. "Well let's just say I've been collecting them since you were a mere sparkling…"

"Ya aren't much older than me!" Ironhide scoffed.

"Yeah, but I knew I liked femmes a lot sooner than you," came the teasing reply.

"Not likely," the shorter mech shot back. "I'd be WITH one and not sittin' here with you if I had my way." He held the pornographic poster up against the wall as his roommate taped it in place.

"Me and you both," Inferno agreed. With a sad sigh, he sat down heavily on Ironhide's berth and stared at his poster. "Yeah, wish there were some single femmes around these parts. We could go out on double dates and all."

Sitting down next to his friend, Ironhide nodded. "Yeah, I'd have a sexier than Primus femme and you'd be all jealous."

Pulling his optics off of his dreamfemme, Inferno optic-balled his roommate in disbelief "Naw, I'd have the pretty one. Femmes always fall for firefighters and all."

"Nope. They like the mech with the best shot!" the van puffed out his chest plates.

"Best shot with what? Your gun – or my cable?" Inferno snickered. He found his own joke far more humorous than Ironhide did, and soon the firetruck was laying back on the berth – completely overtaken by the giggles. His loud laughter penetrated their door and flowed down the corridor.

'Hide just glared at him for a moment, before rolling his optics and shaking his head. "No good excuse for a firetruck," he snickered as he watched his friend degrade into a helpless wreck of laughter.

That's just when the door slid open and a familiar officer walked in to see what all the noise was about. Glancing at the helplessly roaring firetruck, then up at the posters and back down again, his optics narrowed at Ironhide.

The van just couldn't help it, having been back in the working ranks for several months, he was no longer afraid of Prowl's wrath. He just couldn't continue on with the farce anymore. His snicker became a full blown howl of laughter at the officer's confusion. Falling back, he hugged Inferno as they both wailed so hard that tears began to roll from their optics.

Patience…. Yes patience was a way of life for Prowl. Sure he was confused as to why a bond pair of mechs would not only plaster pin-ups of femmes all over their quarters, but would also be suffering from spasms of laughter over it. However, he had all the patience in the world to wait for them to recover enough to explain themselves. And he did have a valid reason to demand that explanation, since one of the posters was out of compliance with ordinances. In fact, it was rather… well… obscene… Perhaps Ironhide had placed them as a joke to his mate? Perhaps that's what this was all about – a simple practical joke?

It took a long time for the two red mechs to calm down. Because when one would start to slow, he'd take one look at the quizzical expression on Prowl's faceplate and go into howls again. But finally…. Ever so slowly…. The howls became snickers… and the snickers slowly faded to nothingness….. An awkwardness now pervaded the scene…

"So, explanation?" Prowl stated in his flattest tone.

The duo glanced at each other, both hoping that the other one would come up with something first. But neither one said anything.

"I will give you one last opportunity to explain why you've hung up a poster that's in non-compliance with rule number twenty-two, section five-dash-twenty-five, article A" Though his tone was flat, Prowl's internal emotions were in flux. He prayed fervently that one of them was going to say they had pranked the other. He could accept that… He could understand that…

Again, the pair locked optics for a brief moment. Ironhide wanting to come clean – Inferno not wanting to risk Prowl's wrath. A silent battle of wills commenced….

"Ok," Prowl moved to rip down the offending poster, "if you two will not explain it to me, then you can explain it to….." he was cut-off in mid sentence and mid stride by Ironhide's hand.

"You ain't takin' anything down. This is our space, we can hang anything we'd like in here." His tone held warning. The warning that the truce was over between them and he might even try another shot at Prowl if further provoked.

"You will take your hand off me now," Prowl stated. He locked optics with the van, challenging him. "And explain yourselves now."

Inferno pulled Ironhide away from the officer. "Come on 'hide, we don't want to cause any problems."

"We didn't cause the problem. He busted in here with all his high-follutin' talk and threats – and I'm flat-tired of it all!" the van struggled against his roommate's grip.

Prowl turned away from the offending poster and faced them full-on. "Inferno's right – YOU don't want to cause any problems with me." His optics challenged the van, and the van reacted as expected. Lunging with all his might – but the firetruck held strong.

"So why don't YOU explain this to me Inferno?" he prodded.

Inferno shifted uncomfortably, he was in no way a good liar. He knew it – Prowl knew it. Damn that officer for putting him on the spot like this! "Well, um, it's like this Prowl, me and 'Hide here… well we-"

Ironhide could handle the act no longer. "-we decided that we just don't like mechs no more!" he blurted out.

Inferno's face plate burned in embarrassment as the officer stared at them both in total shock and disbelief. "Yeah, somethin' like that," he stammered.

Unable to think straight… Unable to utter a response…. Prowl backed out of their quarters and disappeared down the hall.

"Well, ya done it now…" Inferno muttered.

"You can say that again," Ironhide wanted to both smack himself upside his own helm for his mouth – as well as to congratulate himself on finally standing up to the officer. He just didn't know which to do first.

"Ya gone and done it now…" the firetruck repeated….

….note…

Back to real life again. Please review… I read each and every one!


	27. Chapter 27

**Amongst Friends**

"So how's he doin' Bee?" RiTank asked as she walked back in. She grinned a little bit at she noticed the two Autobots pressed together for warmth.

Bumblebee slowly reactivated his optics, he'd just completed the second defrag cycle while linked with Cliffjumper. Shifting a little bit, he peeled the tarp off their torsos and picked up the meta monitor. Tapping a code, he smiled as he read the data. "Well, its reading 98 percent defragged, so I guess that's good."

RiTank walked over, her soft steps barely making a sound. Sitting down on the other side of Cliffjumper, she scanned his temperature with her infrared. He seemed about right. "So did you tell him about us?" she asked. She hoped the red mech was as nonjudgemental about their profession as Bee was.

"He knows. Kind've thinks that the cons will have it rough once we train you femmes," Bee answered. He knew he was exaggerating a little bit, but Cliffjumper did think it'd be funny as heck. "I did tell him what you three pulled back there. He was very impressed."

The pink femme beamed with pride. They'd actually IMPRESSED the red mech?! Wow, now that was unexpected! She knew her old bounty hunter client would've been preening like a prize fighter had he seen them. A warm feeling spread through her. She'd always wanted to leave this rock, do something more exciting and worthwhile than selling herself. And if the red mech was impressed, then maybe….. "Do you think the Autobots would hire us? If we did real good in training?" Her optics pleaded with him as she spoke.

Reaching over, Bumblebee patted her hand. "I think we might be able to talk Optimus into it. But you've got to pass the small arms test. I know you femmes can easily handle the stress." After being prostitutes on the hard streets of the metropolis, he didn't think battle would really phase them.

RiTank smiled at her friend. "A new shot at life? Thanks Bee, I owe you big time." She meant every word she said. Her dreams of leaving this planet and starting anew – were now a possibility!

"Can you unplug us? I don't think we need to be integrated anymore," Bee said. Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the pink femme with trusting optics.

A little blown away, since he was actually trusting her to touch his very spark, RiTank blushed a little but nodded. Leaning over the defraging red mech, she carefully followed the cable into Bee's opened chest plates. Her digits touching his blue spark as she carefully disconnected the cable. Pulling the cable out, she closed his armor plate and patted him.

Leaning further over the red mech, she followed the cable into his chest. Her gentle fingers probing in order to find the connection, as she touched his spark, his optics reactivated.

Feeling strange digits within him, Cliffjumper reactivated in shock. His first instinct was to fight, to get away from those digits probing into his very core! But strong arms held him down, a weight upon his side. The digits dove in deeper, unplugging the connection with that beautiful calm spark that was his friend.

He began to start to panic, but Bumblebee's calming voice filled his audios. The two mechs surrounded him, pressing him tightly between them, wrapping him with their chassis's so that he couldn't move. He felt their gentle caresses on his bare circuits, the resulting impulses raced through his systems. Slowly, he calmed down, the gentle pleasure sensations overriding his meta's expectation of pain.

"Shhh, Autobot.. It's Ok.." RiTank murmured softly. Her optics locked with Bumblebee's as they knew they had to work together to bring the red mech back into reality.

Her gentle high voice, so unlike the harsh mech voices of the cons, broke through Cliffjumper's terror-filled processor. The tension began to leave his chassis. His hydraulic pressure going down to a more normal level, as his optics cleared, he found himself looking into the blue optics of his good friend.

Turning his head in confusion, he found the pink dancer pressing her chassis against his backside. Then he remembered the events from yesterday, remembered that he was amongst Bumblebee's friends. Finally, a faint smile crossed his faceplate. "Hi, um, I'm Cliffjumper," he stammered. Not used to having a gorgeous femme pressing her frame into his like this.

She smiled, easily spotting the nervousness of the mech. "I'm RiTank. Nice to meet you." She patted his side, letting him know that she understood.

"You gonna be ok now Cliff?" Bee asked. He knew what it was like to have those flashbacks, and it was horrible.

Looking back at his friend, the red mech nodded. "I think so. Guess I'm almost completely defragged now?" he said, nodding to Bee's closed chest plate.

"Yep," Bee said. He slowly slid away from Cliffjumper and sat up. "But you still got that monitor hooked to your meta, so don't move much until T'ran and Droct say you can – ok?"

Cliffjumper nodded. He had noticed that the side of his helm was still off, exposing his most sensitive processor.

"And we're used to Bumblebee's panic attacks. So don't worry, we understand and we'll help you through it too," RiTank said softly. Her blue optics shined with her concern.

Cliffjumper couldn't help it, the warmth from her engines radiated through him. He wanted to erase the feel of Decepticons on him, replace it with the feel of a femme. So he pressed himself more tightly against her. He was hopeful that she wouldn't take offense.

She just chuckled softly. The dancer knew the difference between a mech looking for simple comfort and one looking for bonding fun. And this one just needed comfort. Considering what he'd been through, the pink femme knew it'd probably be some time before he'd really be able to bond willingly again. This would be a very acceptable situation to the dancers. For they did prefer mechs who didn't try to jump them the second they met them – that just made the mechs seem like customers. And they were all hopeful that this red Autobot would see them as possible recruits – not whores.

"Well, looks like Bee was right huh? You like femmes?" B'dec's youthful voice filled the room. She pranced over and plopped herself down next to the now-sitting Bee, and looked down at Cliffjumper with a big smile on her face.

Cliffjumper looked from Bee to the bright colored dancer and back again. The yellow mech just shrugged and grinned at him. A light feeling filled the red mech's chassis as he realized Bee had probably partially bribed the dancers into rescuing him, by hinting that he might find them attractive. He couldn't believe his luck! He would actually have a shot at getting a femme to agree to go out with him?! Primus! He'd never had that shot before, since the bigger mechs always seemed to attract the few femmes left on Cybertron..

Reminding himself to REALLY thank Bumblebee for this opportunity, Cliffjumper grinned at the orange and red femme. "Yep, and I'm really cold without my armor."

Bumblebee chuckled as he stood up. B'dec more than thrilled to take his place next to the red mech. Glancing down at his friend, now quite happy being sandwiched between two beautiful femmes, he knew it'd been the right thing to do to have gotten the dancers involved. He chuckled as he heard the three of them chattering as he walked out of the room to go look for Droct. Yes, Cliffjumper and the two dancers were very pleased it would seem…

Walking down the mine shafts, Bee searched for Droct. He figured that the mech couldn't have gone far, for he'd been about to drop in exhaustion when he had left Bee alone to take care of Cliffjumper. And Bee just had to find him, he was so elated that there was the chance everything was ok between them. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from his chest plate.

Dunking under a broken ceiling support, Bee slipped around the corner. His infrared finally picked up the form of the mech he was searching for! Quietly, he walked over to the defragmenting form of his bond mate. Sitting down next to him, he silently studied the deformed mech as he slept.

Droct was always forced to defrag in an odd position when they were away from home. The overly large shoulder on the one side, and the single door wing on the other – made it impossible for him to lie completely flat on a solid surface. Back at the shack, he usually crammed his wing down in the tight space between the wall and the bunk. A bit of an awkward position to be sure, but at least then he could lie flat on his side in some comfort.

A wave of pity came over Bumblebee, for he knew that Droct's linkages would be very stiff and painful because of the way he'd be forced to defrag for the next few weeks. They couldn't go back home because the cons would be hunting them, and Cliffjumper and Bee couldn't leave on a shuttle until the red mech had some protective armor. So they'd have to call these old mine shafts home for a while. Knowing the discomfort Droct would be having, Bee knew the mech would never once complain about it. He was doing all of this solely for Bee, with little regard for himself.

Hoping he could make it a little more bearable, Bee laid down on his back next to his friend. Gently he pulled the mech to lay against him, putting Droct in a more normal position by letting the mech put much of his weight on him. Wrapping his arm around Droct's still form, Bee looked up at the blackness of the mine shaft and just enjoyed the warmth of holding his friend for a while.

********************-**Meanwhile, back on Cybertro**n-***************************************

Silence filled their small quarters for a long time as the two red mechs thought about what had just conspired. Their cover was busted now! How would this impact their daily shifts? Would Prowl take advantage of his position to make their lives miserable and give them the grunt assignments? So many unknowns to face. So many questions….

Inferno was the first one to breach the oppressive silence. "I'm sure he won't do anything 'bout this" he muttered, more to reassure himself – than to reassure his roommate.

Ironhide sighed, "I was bein' stupid. You can tell that to my faceplate you know."

"Yeah, ya aren't exactly known for any tact," the firetruck agreed. He shifted his optics to the pale blue femme in the poster above him.

"What's that?" like the red van even actually cared about tact. That wasn't in his specs.

"Thinkin' before ya start talkin'," Inferno looked over at his friend and grinned, "somethin' I've NEVER seen ya do!"

Ironhide chuckled a bit, "Yeah, my builder didn't exactly program that into me."

"So how are we goin' to get out of this jam?" the firetruck's optics drifted back to the pale blue femme in the poster.

The van shrugged, "don't know – but I ain't takin' down any of these. You?"

"Naw, waste of some good tape doin' that." He put his hands behind his helm and shifted to a more comfortable viewing position.

"Guess we could always say that we realized that we weren't exactly meant for each other or something?" There was a hopeful twang to the van's voice. He wasn't the sharpest talker amongst the Autobots, took him a while to figure out how to get out of something with words.

"Hmmmm, might work. Maybe say that we still prefer each other's company though? But don't want to be a bonded pair anymore." This seemed to be a good train of thought. There were a lot of Autobots that hung out together 24/7 but weren't bonded to anyone, much less each other.

Ironhide's blue optics were twinkling in mischief. "Why don't we mention this to Bluestreak first. You know, ask him for advice on how to deal with it."

Inferno glanced over at his friend, his grin beginning to match. "Yeah, Bluestreak can't keep his voice processor shut 'bout anythin'. It'll be all over base before our shift even starts!"

The van sat up, his face plate lit up in an even bigger grin. "Yeah, that'll solve our problem in less than an astrohour!"

Standing up, Inferno held his hand out to his roommate and helped him to his peds. "Yep, we got ourselves a great plan! Let's go find Bluestreak!"

******* **Thanks for reading...Plea**se review..


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